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MAEY DOW, p. 48. 



HYMNS • 


AND 


OTHER POEMS 


FOR 


CHILDHEN. 


1 

BY HANNAH F. GOULD. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS. 


BOSTON: 


WILLIAM J. REYNOLDS & CO. 


1 854. 

i 

1 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, 

BY H. F. GOULD, 

in the Clerk's Oflace of the District Court of the District of 

Mafisachusetts. 



SBO. C. BAND, PUINTEB, COBNBILI^ BOSTOS. 



CONTENTS. 



Day Hymn, ^«5'e ^ 

Star Hymn, 8 

Little Friends of Jesus, 9 

The Sabbath, , 12 

The Golden Minstrel, 13 

Sabbath School Hymn, 15 

God in the Thunder Storm, 16 

The Lad with the Loaves and Fishes, 17 

Emma's Dream, 19 

The Little Cake, 22 

The Dying Child's Eequest, 26 

The Hill-side Flower, 28 

Juvenile Missionary Hymn, 30 

The Little Gleaner, 31 

The Child and the Honey-Bee, 33 

The Meadow Violet, 35 

The Rose Tree, 37 

Children Praying, 40 

The Spider, 42 

The Dewy Flower, 45 

Falsehood Forbidden, 47 

Mary Dow, 48 

Mary, 51 

The Fruit-Tree Blossom, 54 

The Bird's Hymn, 55 

The Bird set Free, 58 

The Little Maid of Israel, 59 

The Sorrowful Yellow Bird, 64 

The Little Flower Garden, 66 

The Lost Hyacinth, 70 



i 

I The Winter King, 72 

The Boy and the Flowers, 76 

KoBiN, Sing to Me, 78 

The Children at the Oak, 79 

The Sparrow, 86 

The Good Doll, 88 

The Robin's Song, 90 

The Child and the Fire-Fly, 92 

, The Bird's Home, 94 

The Broken Pipe, 95 

i The Peach Blossoms, 98 

The Bird's Maternal Care, 100 

The Wheat Field, 104 

The White Anemone, 106 

Pic-Nic Hymn, 107 

The Fly under the Lamp Shade, 109 

The Bible in the Fields, 110 

Writing in Helen's Album, 113 

! Lady Mary, 115 

j The Trammelled Fly, 118 

The White Moth, 120 

Little Ellen and her Broken Basket, 122 

To Adelaide, 125 

The Snow Fi^vke, 126 

The Widow's Only Son, 129 

The Child's Hymn to Spring, 132 

The Mariner's Orphan, 134 

The Despoiled Humming Bird, 137 

Teachings of God, 140 

The Man and the Mountain, 142 

Poor Marianna, 144 

The White Cottage, 149 

Patty Proud, 153 

The Young Benefactor, 157 



HYMNS 



OTHER POEMS 



FOR CHILDREN. 



DAY HYMN. 

When morn hath round our pillow shed 

Her pure and precious light, 
We must not idly keep our bed, 

That gave us rest by night. 
We must arise our God to praise, 

Who kept us while we lay ; 
And ask his care through all the ways 

He marks for us by day. 

When, shining in his noontide power, 

We see the golden sun. 
We should review each by-gone hour 

Of day, for what we've done. 
We should aspire our hearts to lift 

His glorious height above ; 
And from our Maker seek the gift 

Of sun-like truth and love. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



When falling shades and evening dew 

The earth in silence veil, 
We should to Him our prayer renew 

Whose mercies never fail ! 
We must in God fold up our hearts 

Ere slumber seal our eyes ; 
And trust — when sleep at morn departs, 

In him to wake and rise. 



STAR HTMN. 

From its home so high and far, 
There's a little twinkling star, 
Down through evening shades and damp, 
Beaming, like a diamond lamp I 

Soft as angel ministry 
Doth its lustre come to me ; 
While to God, who holds it there, 
I address my soul in prayer. 

Clouds may rise and intervene 
Me and that dear star between ; 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



While, unchanged, the star will be 
True to heaven, and true to me. 

Sinful thoughts may thus arise 
In my soul, and o'er my eyes 
Bring a vapor, that will hide 
God's bright angel at my side ! 

May the penitential tear 
Then my clouded vision clear, 
And my drooping spirit feel 
Christ apply the pardon-seal ! 

Now that peaceful star on high, 
Like an angel watcher's eye, 
Do I love to know will keep 
Beaming o'er me while I sleep. 



LITTLE FRIENDS OP JESUS. 

Young children sang " Hosanna I " 
Where Jesus drew the throng ; 

The palm-branch was their banner, 
And angels taught their song. 



10 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



Those little prompt believers 
In Christ, their Lord aud King, 

Were of the first receivers 
Of joy he came to bring. 

And their sweet infant story, 

That now so fresh appears. 
Has given their Savior glory 

These eighteen hundred years. 
Whilst they the palm-branch bearing. 

When Christ on earth was found. 
Bright crowns in Heaven are wearing, 

And sing his throne around. 

Though there his brightness falleth 

On saint and seraphim. 
On earth he sweetly calleth 

The little ones to him. 
He loves the hearts of childhood 

Made his by faith and prayer ; 
As we, from heath and wild wood 

Love flowers for our parterre. 

Each gift — each word that's spoken 
To spread his kingdom here, 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 11 



He treasures as a token 
Of love to him sincere. 

And, little sons and daughters 
Of happy Christian land, 

Know ye, beyond the waters, 
What heathen idols stand ? 

There heathen children never 

The name of Jesus heard ! 
They have no hope forever. 

Unless they learn his word. 
If yours be love's confidings 

In him, his love proclaim : 
Send out the glorious tidings 

Of life in Jesus' name. 

'Twill, as your signal palmy, 

Be witnessed from on high, 
And yield an unction balmy 

To souls that else would die. 
0, send the heavenly manna, 

The " bread of life " to them, 
That they may sing " Hosanna" 

In New Jerusalem. 



12 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



THE SABBATH. 

Day of days, the dearest, best ; 
Hallowed by Jehovah's rest ! 
When his six day's work was done, 
Holy rose the seventh sun. 

When creation's pillars stood, 
And the Lord pronounced them good, 
Morning stars together sang — 
Heaven with sabbath praises rang. 

Earth in pristine beauty shone. 
Like a gem, before his throne, 
While he marked thee as his claim. 
And baptized thee with his name. 

Choice of God, thou blessed day ! 
At thy dawn the grave gave way 
To the power of him within, 
Who had, sinless, bled for sin. 

Thine the radiance to illume 
First, for man, the dismal tomb. 
When its bars their weakness owned. 
There revealing death dethroned. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 13 



Then the " Sun of Righteousness/' 
Rose a darkened world to bless, 
Bringing up from mortal night, 
Immortality and light. 



THE GOLDEN MINSTREL. 

Where, from thousand honey-springs, 
Opening blossoms feed the bee, 

Some melodious warbler sings, 
Bosomed deep in yonder tree. 

On the breeze the music floats 
With the perfume of the flower, 

Pouring forth in mellow notes 
From the lovely minstrel's bower. 

'Mid the leaves and clustered bloom, 
Where to shroud his dress he stole. 

Now appears his golden plume ; 
'Tis a brilliant Oriole. 

Little jewel ! hidden there. 

Still he had remained concealed, 

Had not that mellifluous air 
Thus his covert form revealed. 



14 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



Not to win himself a name 

Would he so his powers display ; 

Nor to swell a creature's fame ; 
'Tis to God he pours the lay. 

Oft it seems as if the birds 
Came with lessons sweet to man ; 

That to pure, unwritten words 
Their delicious music ran. 



Ever seem they to rejoice, 
In the sunshine, or the showers ; 

Gratitude attunes their voice 
Unto Him who gave their powers. 

Under blue or sombre sky, 
On the bough or in the dust, 

They've a bright and cheerful eye, 
And a heart of truth and trust. 



In his leafy, calm retreat, 
Like a happy human soul 

Singing at its Father's feet. 
Is the lovely Oriole. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 15 



Sweet as incense up the skies, 
Welcome to his Maker's ear, 

Roll the artless melodies 

From the little warbler here. 



SABBATH SCHOOL HYMN. 

Our Father, who art throned above. 

As heaven's eternal king. 
So high ! thou still from earth dost love 

The praise a child may sing. 

Then lend, we pray, a listening ear, 

Whilst we, an infant throng, 
Unite our feeble voices here 

To lift the grateful song ! 

We bless thee for thy goodness known ; 

We bless thee for our trust, 
That still thou'lt guard us from thy throne. 

Though we are in the dust. 

With thanks for all thy kindness, Lord, 

We give thee highest praise. 
That we possess thy sacred Word, 

And holy Sabbath days. 



16 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



A Savior by that blessed Book 
We find, who loved us so, 

He laid his glory by, and took 
An infant's form below ! 

He died but for the sins of those 
Who'd be through him forgiven : 

Then on the Sabbath morn he rose 
To lead our hearts to Heaven. 



GOD IN THE THUNDER STORM. 
"The God of glory thundereth." — Pe. xxis:3. 

When peals the thunder long and loud, 
The Lord is speaking from the cloud. 
Whilst they who know him not, may fear. 
His children love his voice to hear. 
And though it sound in noise and storm, 
His love but takes the varied form ; 
To give them purer vital breath, 
" The God of glory thundereth." 

When lightnings flash from out the sky, 
It is the Lord who passeth by. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 17 



With brightness from his holy throne, 
In gleamings on his raiment shown. 
His splendor may the sinner awe ; 
But they who know and love his law, 
Recall his Word of life, that saith 
' The God of glory thundereth." 

At last, when scenes of life shall end. 
And Christ arrayed in power descend ; 
His voice will rend the silent tomb ; 
His lightnings every eye relume ! 
His friends, in that august review, 
Will shine with joy his friends anew ; 
While, with the keys of life and death, 
' The God of glory thundereth." 



THE LAD WITH THE LOAVES 

AND FISHES. 

" There is a lad here> which hath five barley loaves and two 
small fishes." — St. John, vi : 9. 

When by Christ the throng were led 
Up the lonely mountain's side, 

Where the multitude were fed, 
Who the wondrous food supplied ? 

B 



18 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



Those Jive loaves smdjishes tivo, 
Which for thousands were to do — 
Who the loaves and fishes brought 
Whence the miracle was wr-ought ? 

Wife, nor maid, nor mother then 
Might the rural feast prepare ; 
Not the young, nor white-haired men 

Should provide the timely fare. 
But a little Christian boy 
For the work did Christ employ, 
Pleased, his host of friends among, 
To distinguish one so young. 

Still doth Jesus love to count 

Young disciples, fair and true, 
Like the lad upon the mount 

Where his early friends he drew. 
Every little gift or deed 
He can bless, like planted seed. 
Or the barley-loaves of old, 
To increase a thousand fold. 

Though your gift be but a mite 
Spared to send his word afar. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 19 



It may prove a ray of light 

Spread and brightened to a star I 
This the star of morn may be 
O'er some land beyond the sea, 
Opening up the shining way 
Of the peaceful gospel day. 

Little friends of Jesus, aim. 

While your life is in the flower, 
With his spirit, in his name. 

To commend his love and power. 
Emulate the Hebrew lad, 
Who, imparting what he had, 
Saw the wonders Christ could do, 
And the moral left to you. 



EMMA'S DREAM. 

My little contribution. 

With ready heart and hand, 

I gave, to send the Word of God 
To distant heathen land : 




And ere I went to rest that night, 
I kneeled to God in prayer, 

That he would change my gift to light 
For souls in darkness there. 



When I was lost in slumber, 
There seemed just o'er my bed, 

An angel child, with beaming brow 
And shining wings out-spread ; 

And stainless seemed the robe to flow 
About that lovely one, 



As lies a glowing sheet of snow 
Beneath the morning sun. 

A touch of golden glory 

Was on her wavy hair ; 
Her face, with rose-tint on the cheek, 

Was like the lily fair. 
And oh ! she sang a holy song, 

Which angels only know 
To sound in their adoring throng ; 

And never learnt below 1 

She told a hasty story 

About her life on earth, 
When here a little dark Hindoo, 

Of distant Indian birth ; 
That once her parents were of those 

Who God in Gauges deem, 
Where oft her babe the mother throws, 

An offering, on the stream : 

But when the missions taught them 

To read the word, and pray 
To God in Heaven, through Jesus' name. 

Their gods were cast away ; 

1 1 



22 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



That e'er she died, she loved to sing 

How Clirist for her could die : 
And then he gave her spirit wing 



To soar to him on hio-h. 



I drew my breath, to ask her 

About the joys above ; 
When silently she disappeared, 

With parting smile of love ! 
Awaking then, I prayed for more 

That I might send away 
To shed upon some heathen shore 

The beams of gospel day. 



THE LITTLE CAKE; A SCRIPTURE 
STORY. 

When o'er ancient Israel, 
Ahab reigned, with Jezebel, 
Fearful things the land befell, 

From their pagan sway : 
Prophets of the Lord were slain ; 
Altars reared to idols vain ; 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 23 

Sins were known, to earth a stain 
Never washed away. 

Ahab's bold Zidonian wife 
Still pursued the vengeful strife, 
Thirsting for Elijah's life, 

Whom the Lord had sent, 
On the land denouncing woe 
Which the king and queen would show. 
For the blood they'd caused to flow, 

What his threatenings meant. 

But the way the Prophet took, 
Shown of God, to Cherith brook. 
Where, in secret cave or nook, 

He pursuit would shun. 
Ravens, as the Lord had said. 
Daily then, with meat and bread, 
Night and morning cam.e and fed 

There, the lonely one. 

Ministers of God were they, 
Wafting on their airy way 
Food his servant's life to stay 
In his drear retreat : 



24 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



Till, as ho had prophesied, 
Dew and rain to earth denied 
Seared the grass, the streamlets dried, 
As by torrid heat. 

He who once a world could drown, 
Now upon his foes sent down 
Drought and famine, in his frown, 

Through the kingdom spread. 
Flock and herd, for drink and feed, 
Pined and died on hill and mead ; 
Man, too, fell, for broke indeed 

Was his staff of bread. 

From his covert sad and low, 

God then bade Elijah go. 

On a way that he would show. 

And protect his path. 
Rough the road he traveled o'er. 
Till a gate he stood before 
Near a widow's humble door, 

Down in Zarephath. 



L.._. 



She was out, and looking round. 
Picking fuel from the ground. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 25 



When she heard the startling sound 
Of the stranger's feet. 
" Give me drink/' Elijah said, 
" And a morsel of your bread ; 
Ere my fainting life hath fled, 
Let me drink and eat ! " 



As the Lord doth live," quoth she, 
For my famished son and me, 
In our keen necessity, 

Only left have I 
Little oil, and meal to make 
For us twain a little cake, 
Which I gather sticks to bake, 

That we eat, and die ! " 



Still the Prophet urged his plea, 
Water bring, and bread, to me ; 
Haste with these ! and then for thee 

And thy son provide." 
Quick the cup his thirst to slake 
Then she brought ; she sped to bake ; 
And the ready little cake 

Soon his want supplied. 



26 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



From that hour her care had ceased 
She, from want and fear released, 
Saw her meal and oil increased ; 

Ever full, her store. 
God, who saw her feeling heart, 
Trustful, void of self and art, 
Prompt her morsel to impart, 

Blessed her evermore. 

Holy men, on heathen ground, 
Now the Gospel trump would sound 
More, could means of life be found 

For their distant way. 
But the needful little cake — 
Who for this the price will take 
From his store, for Jesus' sake. 

Trusting God for pay ? 



THE DYING CHILD'S REQUEST. 

A little boy, laid sick and low. 
Looked up with languid eye. 

And spake as one who seemed to know 
He now was called to die. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 27 



He said, " Dear mother, do not grieve 
That I must leave you here ; 

For you, and every friend I leave, 
Will then be doubly dear. 

" There's something tells me I must go 
Where Christ prepares a home, 
To which you all, left now below, 
In little while shall come. 

" To brother — sister — playmates too. 
Some gift I^d leave behind. 
To keep me, when I've passed from view, 
Still present to their mind. 

" You '11 thus to them my books divide. 
My playthings give away ; 
So they '11 remember how I died, 
When not so old as they. 

" Then from my money-box you '11 take 
The little coins within, 
To use as means, for Jesus' sake, 
In turning souls from sin. 

" "Twould make the heavenly hosts rejoice, 
And sing to Jesus' name, 



28 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 

To hear some little heathen's voice 
His saving love proclaim. 

" My breath is faint — I'm dark and chill 
Soft wings seem hovering nigh : 
Come, all, and promise me, you still 
Will love me, if I die. 

" Oh, mother ! tell me — what is this ? 
Your forms I cannot see ! 
Come, each, and warm me with a kiss ; 
The angels bend for me ! " 

The morning sun shone in, to light 
The chamber where he lay ; 

The soul that made that form so bright, 
To Heaven had passed away. 



THE HILL- SIDE FLOWER. 

Flower upon the green hill-side. 

Thou, to shun the threatening blast, 

In the grass thy head dost hide, 
By the tempest overpast. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 29 



Then to greet the azure skies, 
And to feel the soothing sun, 

Brighter — sweeter — dost thou rise ! 
Tell me, flower, how this is done ! 

" I will tell thee, as a friend. 

Artless — timid — whispering low ; 
At the blast 'tis good to bend ! 
He who made me, taught me so. 

" While his teaching I obey, 
I but fall to rise, and stand. 
Brighter for the stormy day. 
Leaning on his viewless hand. 

" When to him I've lowly bowed. 
He with freshness fills my cup 
From the angry, scowling cloud ; 
Gently then he lifts me up. 

"So I sink, —and so I rise — 
In the dark or sunny hour. 
Minding him who rules the skies : — 
He's my God ; and I'm his flower ! " 



30 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



JUVENILE MISSIONARY HYMN. 

[ Written for a sewing-circle of little girls, preparing articles 
for an annual sale ; the proceeds of which were for the support 
of two African children.] 

" Come over here and help us ! " 

That Macedonian cry, 
From dusky Afric do we hear ; 

Nor can our aid deny. 
We '11 send our angel, Charity, 

Beyond the deep to sow : 
As mustard seed our gift may be, 

A thriving tree to grow. 

Its green and spreading branches 

May flourish, high and fair, 
Till comes the bird of Paradise 

To plume her bosom there. 
The little Ethiop's mind, beneath 

Its shadow fresh and free, 
The wreath may twine — the balm may 
breathe 

Of Immortality ! 

Though on the distant waters — 
That others may be fed, — 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 31 



Of Niger, Nile, or Senegal, 

In faith we cast our bread ; 

As rivers from their sources flow, 
Increasing as they roll, 

Twill spring and spread with power, and 
grow. 
To stay the famished soul ! 

Whilst here we ply the needle, 

That heathen lands may win 
The seamless garment Christ hath wrought, 

To clothe the spirit in ; 
Whoe'er but gives a widow's mite. 

Or breathes a Christian prayer, 
Will speed our happy angel's flight 

To waft our offering there. 



THE LITTLE GLEANER. 

Whilst here we're busy gleaning 
The little birds and I, — 

The heavy sheaves are leaning 
Together, bright and dry. 

The word that God hath spoken 
In favor of the poor, 



32 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



So kindly, can't be broken ; 
It is forever sure ! 

'Tis he who hath commanded 

The reaper of the grain, 
When going oft full-handed. 

To let some ears remain.* 
By this our Heavenly Father, 

Reveals it, as his will. 
That we some bread may gather. 

Who have no fields to till. 

The little birds and mother 

And I are poor indeed ! 
And I've an infant brother 

For her to tend and feed. 
So I, their little Lizzie, 

Do all that in me lies. 
By keeping ever busy. 

To furnish their supplies. 

My father, gone to Heaven, 
Our wants he does not know : 

And leave to me is given 
To glean the fields below. 

* See Leviticus, xix. 9. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 33 



And want will ne'er destroy us, 
While these young hands can toil 

And mother talk so joyous 
About the widoicis oil ! 

The widow that we read of, 

Who baked the " little cake '' 
From meal herself had need of, 

For good Elijah's sake ! 
She could not send, without it. 

The stranger off distressed — 
But you know all about it ; 

How God her barrel blessed ! 

When all alone I'm gleaning, 

I fancy I can feel 
And understand the meaning 

Of that increase of meal. 
Our God will ne'er forsake us 

Till we forsake his way ! 
And here's enough to make us 

Our little cake to-day. 



THE CHILD AND THE HONEY BEE. 

Come here, little bee ! 

There are sweet flowers by me ; 



34 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



Come, and just let me see 
How your honey is made. 
Oh ! I can't ; for I fear 
That, for coming too near 
I should pay very dear ; 
I'm afraid ! I'm afraid ! " 



0, feel no alarm ! 

Not a wing nor an arm — 

Not a part will I harm. 

While you're sipping your fill. 
" Pretty maid, then I'll come 
Close beside you, and hum ; 
And you shall have some 

Of the sweets I distil." 



My trust then is free. 
Just as yours is to me ; 
But, be sure, little bee. 

Not to give me your sting ! 
" Oh, no, no ! since I flew 
From the cell where I grew. 
None has known me to do 

So ungrateful a thing ! " 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 35 



Then, why thus supplied 
With a sting, but to hide 
And to keep never tried. 

Out of sight ? cunning bee ! 
" He who gave me the sting. 
And the swift gauzy wing, 
Bids me not harm a thing 

That would not injure me.'' 



THE MEADOW VIOLET. 

Violet, violet, sparkling with dew ! 

Down in the meadow-land wild where you 

grew, 
How did you come by the beautiful blue 

In which your soft petals unfold ? 
And how do you hold up your tender young 

head. 
When rude sweeping winds rush along o'er 

your bed. 
Or dark, gloomy clouds, ranging over you, 

shed 
Their waters, all heavy and cold ? 



36 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



For no one has nursed you or watched you 

an hour, 
Or found you a place in the garden or 
bower ; 

I But art cannot yield me so lovely a flower 
As here I have found at my feet ! 
0, speak, my sweet violet ! answer, and tell 
How thus you've grown up, and flourished 

so well. 
And live so contented, where lowly you 
dwell. 
And we now by accident meet ! 

" The same careful hand," the meek violet 

said, 
" That holds up the firmament, holds up my 

head ! 
And He who with azure the skies overspread, 

Has painted the violet blue. 
He sprinkles the stars out, above me by 

night ; 
And sends down the sunbeams at morning, 

with light 
To make my new coronet sparkling and 

bright, 
When formed of a drop of his dew. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 37 



" And I've naught to fear from the dark 
heavy cloud, 

Or breath of the tempest, that comes strong 
and loud, 

Where, born in the lowland, remote from 
the crowd, 
I know and I live but for one. 

He soon forms a mantle about me to cast. 

Of long silken grass, till the rain and the 
blast. 

And all that seemed threatening have harm- 
lessly past, 
And clouds scud before the warm sun ! " 



THE ROSE TREE. 

Rose-tree, my beauteous rose-tree ! 

Often have I longed to know 
How thy tender leaves were moulded — 

How thy buds are burst, and blow. 

I have watered, sunned, and trained thee. 
And have watched thee many an hour ; j 



38 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



Yet I never could discover 
How a bud becomes a flower. 

So, last night, I thought about thee 

On my pillow, till at last 
I was gone in quiet slumber, 

And a dream before me passed. 

In it, I beheld my rose-tree 

Stripped of flower, and bud and leaf. 
While thy naked stalk and branches 

Filled me with surprise and grief. 

Then, methought, I wept to see thee 
Spoiled of all that made thee dear. 

Till a band of smiling angels 
Mildly shining, hovered near. 

Gently as they gathered round thee 

All in silence, one of them 
Laid his fair, soft fingers on thee. 

Pulling leaves from out the stem. 

One by one thy twigs he furnished 
With a dress of foliage green ; 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 39 



While another angel followed, 
Bringing buds the leaves between. 

Then came one the buds to open ; — 
He their silken rolls unsheathed, 

Whilst the one who tints the roses 

Through their opening foldings breathed. 

Then the angel of the odors 

Filled each golden-bottomed cell, 

Till, between the parting petals, 
Free on air the fragrance fell. 

Lifting then their shining pinions, 
Quick the angels passed from sight. 

Leaving, Avhere aloft they vanished. 
But a stream of fading light. 

There I heard sweet strains of music, 

And their voices far above, 
Dying in the azure distance. 

Naming thee a Gift of Love ! 

And my rose-tree stood before me, 
Finished thus by angel hands ; — 



40 POEMS FOB CHILDREN. 



Perfect in its bloom and fragrance — 
Beautiful, as now it stands ! 

Hence, whenever I behold thee, 
I shall think of angels too ; 

And the countless works of goodness 
They descend on earth to do. 

All unseen and silent, round us. 
Careful they their watches keep, 

Whether we may wake, or slumber ; 
Guardian angels never sleep ! 



CHILDREN PRAYING. 

Little children, when you pray, 
'' Father, hallowed be thy name ! " 
Do you think, the words you say 
From the lips of Jesus came ? 
Uttered not with soul sincere. 
They offend his holy ear ; 
But, if from the heart they rise, 
They're as incense to the skies. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 4i 

When you pray, " Thy kingdom come ! ''* 
Would you have it every where ? 

If you do but think of home, 
'Tis a vain and empty prayer. 

When you ask " Thy will be done ; " 

Every iDhere beneath the sun ! 

Should a voice within you say, 

Or your lips be mute, that pray. 

When you ask for " daily bread," 

And your " trespasses " forgiven, 
Would you have all people fed ; 

Every soul made heir of heaven ? 
Then, you '11 strive his name to spread. 
Who of life can give the bread ; 
Only through whose love can be 
Souls from sin, for Heaven made free. 

Would you all " temptation " shun. 

And " from evil " find release. 
Trust to God's beloved son ; 

For in him is perfect peace. 
What you do his cause to aid, 
Will your treasure sure be made, 
Where in brightness it shall last 
When this earth itself is past ! 



42 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



THE SPIDER . 

One biting winter morning, 

A dusky spider swung 
From off the mantle, by his thread, 

And o'er the stove-pipe hung. 
Escaped from some dim cranny cold, 

To warmer quarters there. 
He seemed, upon that slender hold, 

An atom hung on air. 

I watched his quick manoeuvres 

Above the funnel hot. 
Where like a falling mustard seed 

He looked, but touched it not. 
For when he'd spun his line too long, 

His tiny hands and feet 
He plied to shun the fervor strong. 

And made a slight retreat. 

Then down again he'd venture, 

A rash, unwary thing ! 
And to his tenure frail, above 

The burning iron, cling. 
He'd mimic now, the sailor's art 

To dangle on the rope, 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 43 



And then, the clinging human heart 
On some delusive hope. 

Methought, " Poor, simple spider ! 

A cruel death is near ; 
Thou art upon its very lip, 

And yet so void of fear ! 
The spider folk, I here confess, 

Had never charms for me ; 
They weave their tents, like wickedness, 

For deeds of cruelty. 

" They live by snare and slaughter ; 

And oft the piercing cry 
I've heard from some poor victim bound. 

By them slung up to die ; 
The while, for many a venomed bite, 

Would spider at him run. 
And back, as if with fell delight, 

To pain the dying one. 

" And yet, I'll try to save thee ; — 
For once a spider's friend ! " 
I raised my hand, when lo ! he fell, 
As lightning, to his end ! 



44 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



The wicked flee when none pursue. 

In jealousy and dread, 
Not knowing what I aimed to do, 

To death the spider fled. 

His little life was over ; 

And where so quick he fell, 
Upon the fervid iron lay 

No speck, his fate to tell. 
Though short its space, for good or ill. 

We thence, perhaps, may find 
Some little moral to distil, 

For use of human kind. 

Is not unwary childhood, 

For pleasure, ofttimes prone 
To shun the way experience points, 

And bent to take its own ? 
Does not the wicked, from his breast, 

Spin out the line of sin 
That leads him to the grave unblest. 

And drops him, hopeless, in ? 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 45 



THE DEWY FLOWER. 

The dewy flower that morn unfolds, 
With pure and grateful eye, 

Its native earth around beholds, 
Above, the shining sky. 

Its pearly crown — a tribute meet — 

To dust beneath it gives ; 
And from its heart the odors sweet. 

To Him by whom it lives. 

Its spicy breath ascends on air, 
Like childhood's hymn of praise ; 

Or seeks its Maker, like the prayer, 
Some infant heart may raise. 

Adoring God, delighting man. 

It seems with aim sincere 
To serve as far as floweret can 

Its being's purpose here. 

Would children emulate the flowers — 
With hearts to God as true. 

Would they to him devote their powers, 
What good each child might do ! 



46 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



For God beholds our humblest aim 
To serve his righteous laws ; 

To glorify the Savior's name, 
His kingdom and his cause. 

Where mind is but a wilderness, 
With souls in heathen night, 

Our feeblest eiBforts he will bless 
To shed the Gospel light. 

Some little self-denying deed, 
For heathen land, may shine, 

A kindling star ; or like a seed. 
Spring up a fruitful vine. 

An owner may come out, and pluck 
His flower, at opening day ; 

Or canker at its vitals suck 
Its new-found life away. 

And childhood is the morning hour 
Of life's just opening bloom. 

When death may snap the dewy flower, 
And lay it in the tomb. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 47 



But if at life's bright rising sun 

The heart to God be given, 
Though plucked from earth a budded one, 

The soul unfolds in Heaven. 



FALSEHOOD FORBIDDEN. 

I must not tell a lie, 

Whatever 's the price to win ; 
For God, with his all-seeing eye, 

Would frown upon the sin. 

I must not use deceit, 

By any art or wile, 
Another's faith and trust to cheat ; 

For God abhors the guile. 

They who can falsely smile 
With lips that utter prayer. 

Insult their Maker ; and the while 
Are in the tempter's snare. 

I must not boldly seek 

My conscience to suppress ; 



48 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



For soon or late will conscience speak, 
And truth obtain redress. 

For God enthroned on high, 
Doth out from Heaven declare. 

That naught which maketh here a lie, 
Shall find an entrance there. 



MARY DOW. 

" Come in, little stranger," I said, 

As she tapped at my half-open door, 

While the blanket pinned over her head 

Just reached to the basket she bore. 

A look full of innocence fell 

From her modest and pretty blue eye. 
As she said, " I have matches to sell. 

And hope you are willing to buy. 

" A penny a bunch, is the price ; 

I think you '11 not find it too much : 
They're tied up so even and nice, 
And ready to light with a touch." 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 49 



' I asked, " What's your name, little girl ? " 

I " 'Tis Mary," said she ; " Mary Dow.'' 

, And carelessly tossed off a curl 

I That played o'er her delicate brow. 

I 

I " My father was lost in the deep ; 

I The ship never got to the shore ; 

I And mother is sad, and will weep 

When she hears the wind blow and sea 
roar. 

" She sits there, at home, without food, 
Beside our poor sick Willie's bed ; 
She paid all her money for wood. 
And so I sell matches for bread. 

i " For every time that she tries 

Some things she'd be paid for to make, 
I And lays down the baby, it cries. 

And that makes my sick brother wake. 

I "I'd go to the yard and get chips ; 

i But then it would make me so sad, 

I To see men there, building the ships, 

j And think they had made one'so bad. 

I D 



50 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



" I've one other gown, and, with care, 
We think it may decently pass, 
With my bonnet, that's put by, to wear 
To meeting and Sunday school class. 

" I love to go there, where I'm taught 

Of one who's so wise and so good, 

He knows every action and thought. 

And gives e'en the raven its food. 

" For He, I am sure, who can take 
Such fatherly care of a bird, 
Will never forget or forsake 

The children who trust to his word. 

" And now, if I only can sell 

The matches I brought out to-day, 
I think I shall do very well ; 

And mother '11 rejoice at the pay." 

" Fly home, little bird," then I thought ; 
" Fly home full of joy to your nest ! " 
For I took all the matches she brought. 
And Mary may tell you the rest. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 51 



MARY. 

Mary, precious is thy name 

More than any other 
Borne by mortal ; for it came 

From our Savior's mother ! 
Mary pillowed on her breast 
Jesus, once, in infant rest : 
Now her name, in sacred lines 
Traced by inspiration, shines. 

Then, another Mary sought 

Her beloved Master, 
Where he " sat at meat ; " and brought, 

Sealed in alabaster, 
Costly ointment for his head ; 
Brake the box, and o'er him shed 
Precious odors, like a cloud 
Rising, while to him she bowed. 

Still on earth she ever lives, 

Young in sacred story ; 
Whilst on high to Christ she gives 

Endless praise and glory. 
Here she " sat at Jesus' feet," 
Listening to his precepts sweet ; 



52 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 

Now she stands with hosts above, 
Singing his redeeming love. 

Near the cross, when Jesus bled, 
Stood the Marys, weeping ; 

Earliest to his tomb they sped. 
Where they thought him sleeping. 

When he left his couch of stone, 

He to Mary first was shown ; 
" Mary " was the primal word 

From the risen Savior heard. 



While arose that Sabbath sun 
Robed in new-made splendor, 

Mary was his chosen one, 
First account to render — 

First his sorrowing friends to tell 

Of the Light of Israel 

Showing Death's domain destroyed, 

And the grave a final void ! 



Mary mine, so young and fair, 
Full of warm affection, 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 53 



Hence from sin and worldly snare 
Wouldst thou sure protection ? 
Guard the beauty of thy name 
By their graces whence it came : 
Early taught of Jesus be, 
Like the maid of Bethany. 

Choose, like her, " that better part ; ' 

Let thine action show it ! 
If to Christ we give our heart, 

Earth, like Heaven, must know it. 
He hath many lovely ways, 
Through the child, to perfect praise : 
Thou, at least, canst speak and pray 
For the heathens far away. 



He will bless thy feeblest aim - 

Like that other Mary — 
Life to publish in his name, 

Though the means may vary. 
Little self-denials, made 
Offerings at his altar laid, 
On some heathen isle or shore, 
Mav reward thee evermore. 



54 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



THE FRUIT-TREE BLOSSOM. 

My flower, thou art as sweet to me, 

Thy form as full and fair — 
As rich a fruit shall follow thee 
As if thou had'st denied the bee 
The pure and precious gift that he 

Wafts joyous through the air. 

The spices from thy bosom flow 

As purely round thee now, 
As if withheld an hour ago ; 
Restoring, thou canst still bestow ; 
Though, whence thy gifts, thou may'st 
not know, 

Or giving, tell me how. 

And future good, we yet shall find, 

Was hidden in thy heart. 
Its witness will be left behind. 
When thou, like all thy tender kind, 
Thy minutes summed, shalt be resigned 

Forever to depart. 

Thy ruin I would not forestall ; 
Yet soon, T know, to thee 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 55 



Must come what happens once to all : — 
Thy life will fail ; and thou must fall — 
Must fade, and perish, past recall 
To vanish from the tree ! 

Then, on the bough where thou wast sent 

To pass thy fleeting days. 
At work for which thine hours were lent. 
In silent, balmy, mild content, 
A rich and shining monument 

To thee will nature raise ! 

Now, not in pride— in purpose high. 

Awhile in beauty shine ; 
And speak through man's admiring eye. 
Forbidding every passer by 
To wish to live, or dare to die. 

With object less than thine ! 



THE bird's hymn. 

My Maker, I know not the place of thy 
home. 
If 'tis earth, or the sky, or the sea ; 



56 POEMS FOR C H I L D 11 E X . 



I only can tell that wherever I roam, 
V\e still a kind Father in thee. 

I feel that at night when I go to my rest, 
Thy wings all around me are flung ; 

And peaceful I sleep, while the down of thy 
breast 
Is o'er me, as mine o'er my young. 

And when in the morning I open my eye, 
I feel thou hast long been awake ; 

Thy beautiful plumage is spread o'er the 
sky, 
And painted on river and lake. 

Thy breath has gone into the buds, and the 
flowers 
Have opened to thee on their stems ; 
And thou hast strown dew-drops on mea- 
dows and bowers. 
To glitter like thousands of gems. 

Thy voice, in the notes that can only be 
thine, — | 

A music 'tis gladness to hear — 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



57 



Comes through the green boughs of the 
oak and the pine, 
And falls sweet and soft on my ear. 

And oft as a shield hast thou stood between 
me 
And the arrow that aimed at my heart ; 
For, though in a form that my eye could 
not see, 
I know thou hast parried the dart. 

I drink from the drops on the grass and the 
vine, 

And gratefully gather my food : 
I feel thou hast plenty for me and for mine ; 

That all things declare thou art good. 



My Father, thy pinions are ever unfurled, 
With brightness no changes can dim ! 

My Maker, thy home is all over the world ; 
Thou 'It hear, then, thy bird's lowly hymn. 



58 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



THE BIRD SET FREE . 

She opened tlie cage, and away there flew 
A bright little bird, as a short adieu 
It hastily whistled, and passed the door ; 
And felt that its sorrowful hours were o'er. 

An anthem of freedom it seemed to sing ; 
To utter its joy for an outspread wing — 
That now it could sport in the boundless air ; 
And might go any and every where. 

And Anna rejoiced in her bird's delight ; 
But her eye was wet, as she marked its flight ; 
Till, this was the song that she seemed to 

hear ; 
And, merrily warbled, it dried the tear : — 

" I had a mistress, and she was kind 
In all but keeping her bird confined. 
She ministered food and drink to me ; 
But oh ! I was pining for liberty ! 



" My fluttering bosom she loved to smoothe 
But the heart within it she could not soothe 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 59 



THE LITTLE MAID OF ISRAEL. 

A SCRIPTURE STORY. 



Ye joyous little maidens 
Of happy Christian land, 



I sickened and longed for the wildwood 

breeze, 
My feathery kindred, and fresh green trees. 

" A prisoner here, with a useless wing, 

I looked with sorrow on every thing. 

I lost my voice, I forgot my song. 

And mourned in silence the whole day long. 

" But I will go back with a mellower pipe, 
And sing, when the cherries are round and I 

ripe; 
On the topmost bough as I lock my feet 
To help myself, in my leafy seat. 

" My merriest notes shall there be heard 
To draw her eye to her franchised bird ; 
The burden, then, of my song shall l)e. 
Earth for the wingless ; hut air for me! " 



60 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



Who have the Bible, and are taught 

To read and understand, 
A lovely tale those Scriptures tell 

Of one we only know 
As little maid of Israel, 

She lived so long ago. 



For she, so young and nameless, 

A glorious work achieved ! 
'Twas through her faith, the Syrian lord 

In Israel's God believed. 
While she 'mid Syria's idols strove 

To make Jehovah known. 
He marked for her a crown above, 

And sealed her here his own. 



To Syria borne a captive. 

In Naaman's house a slave, 
A missionary sweet she proved. 

Her foreign lord to save. 
That honored favorite of the king, 

His chief in rank and power. 
Felt on himself an evil cling, 

Corroding every hour. 



POEMS FOE CHILDREN. 



61 



1 



For Naaman was a leper, 

Whilst all the power and skill 
Of magic, art, and pagan rite 

Had failed to reach the ill. 
Though clothed in jeweled raiment 
bright 

And golden-wrought array, 
His form with leprosy was white, 

To foul disease a prey. 

'Twas then this little maiden. 

While serving Naaman's wife. 
Was made the means his soul to save. 

And heal his blighted life. 
For with that truly pious zeal 

The faithful only know. 
She sought his malady to heal, — 

The healing balm to show. 



She said, " Would God my master 

Were in Samaria, where 
There dwells a Prophet, who would find 

The cleansing secret there ! " 
But little did the leper know 

How fresh and free and pure 



62 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 

The balsam of the Lord would flow 
His malady to cure. 

And Naaman sought Elisha, 

With gifts and rich array ; 
When from them all that man of God 

With loathing turned away. 
The gift of God he " did not buy, 

Nor speak his will for hire ! " 
Then lightning flashed through Naa- 
man's eye 

From out his breast of ire. 

The Syrian thought the Prophet 

Would come with grand display ; 
xVnd call upon his God with pomp, 

And sacrifice to pay. 
But when he merely bade him go, 

And wash in Jordan's tide ; 
He deemed it mockery ; spoken so, 

His misery to deride ! 

" Hath not," he said, " Damascu-?, 
The city where I dwell, 
The better waters, far, than all 
The streams of Israel ? 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



63 



Abana, there, and Pharpar flow, 

In shining fulness seen ! 
Have they not floods, where I may go 

To wash me, and be clean ? " 

And had not Naaman's servants 

Their master's wrath assuaged. 
The leper thence had hastened home, 

Despairing and enraged. 
As yet the pagan never knew, 

'Mid all his keen distress, 
What one small act of faith may do, 

With Israel's God to bless. 

But by his sufferings humbled. 

Not knowing where to lean. 
He turned and washed him seven times 

In Jordan, and was clean ! 
Renewed in faith, in person fair. 

This witness thence he gave : 
" No god in all the earth is there, 

But Israel's God, to save ! " 



Yet of this lovely captive. 
The maid of Israel, 



64 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 

And of the mission she performed, 
My song can feebly tell. 

You '11 find the tale, and best derive 
The lesson sweet it brings, 

By studying it, in chapter five. 
Of Second Book of Kings. 



THE SORROWFUL YELLOW-BIRD 

They've caught my little brother ; 

And he was to me a twin ! 
They stole him from our mother ; 

And the cage has shut him in. 

I flitted by and found him. 

Where he looked so sad and sick, 

With the gloomy wires around him, 
As he crouched upon a stick. 

And when I tried to cheer him 
With the cherry in my bill, 

To see me there so near him — 
Oh ! it made him sadder still. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



65 



His tender eye was shining 

With the brightness of despair, 

With sorrow and repining, 
As he bade me have a care ! 

He said they'd come and take me, 
As they'd taken him ; and then 

A hopeless prisoner make me, 
In the fearful hands of men : — 

That, once in their dominion, 
I should have to pine away. 

And never stretch a pinion. 
To my very dying day : — 

That the wings which God had made 
him 

For freedom in the air. 
Since man had thus betrayed him, 

Were stiff and useless there. 



And the little darling fellow, 
As he showed his golden breast. 

He said, beneath the yellow. 

He'd a sad and aching breast : — 



66 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



That since he'd been among them, 
They had ruffled it so much, 

The only song he'd sung them 
Was a shriek beneath their touch. 

How can they love to see him 

So sickly and so sad, 
When, if they would but free him. 

He'd be so well and glad ? 

My hapless little brother ! 

I would fain his bondage share : 
I never had another ; — 

And he's a captive there 1 



THE LITTLE FLOWER GARDEN 

In yon old village burying-place. 
With briers and weeds o'ergrown, 

I saw a child with beauteous face 
Sit musing all alone. 

Without a shoe — without a hat. 
Beside a new-raised mound ; 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 67 



The little Willie pensive sat, 
As if to guard the ground. 

I asked him why he lingered thus, 
Within that gray old wall. 
" Because," said he, " it is to us. 
The dearest place of all.'' 

" And what," I asked, " to one so young, 

Can make the place so dear ? " 
" Our mother" — said the lisping tongue, 
" They laid our mother here. 

" And since they made it mother's lot, 
We like to call it ours : — 
We took it for our garden spot. 
And planted it with flowers. 

" We know 'twas here that she was laid ; 
And yet, they tell us, too, 
She's now a happy angel, made 
To live where angels do. 

" Then, will she watch us from above, 
And smile on us, to know 



38 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 

That here her little children love 
To make sweet flowerets grow. 

" My sister Anna's gone to take 
Her supper ; and will come, 
With quickest haste that she can make, 
To let me run for some. 

" We do not leave the spot alone, 
For fear the birds will spy 
The places where the seeds are sown, 
And catch them up, and fly ! 

" We love to have them come, and feed, 
And flit and sing about ; 
Yet, not where we have dropped the seed, 
To find and pick it out. 

" But now, the great, round, yellow sun 
Is going down the west ; 
And soon the birds will, every one, 
Be home, and in the nest. 

" Then we to rest shall go home too ; 
And while we're fast asleep ; 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



69 



Amid the darkness and the dew, 
Perhaps the sprouts will peep ! 



" And when our plants have grown so high 
That leaves are on the stem, 
We '11 call the pretty birdies nigh, 
And scatter crumbs for them. 



" For mother loved their songs to hear — 
To watch them on the wing ; 
She '11 love to know they still come near 
Her little ones, and sino:. 



" I don't know where's her dwelling-place 
But here, she daily seems 
To meet me, as, with smiling face, 
She kissed me in my dreams. 



"May not she be the Angel, spnt 
A daily watch to keep ; 
And, fondly o'er our pillows bent. 
To guard us while we sleep ? " 



70 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. j 



"Heaven guard thee, precious child, me- 
thought, 
" And ' sister Anna,' too ; 
And may your future days be fraught 
With blessings ever new ! " 



THE LOST HYACIXTH. 

My hyacinth, my hyacinth 

At length has come to light ! 
And round the stalk and purple buds 

The leaves are green and bright, 
llenewed in beauty, it has broke 

From out the crumbling earth ; 
And when I thought it dead and gone. 

It has another birth ! 

My hyacinth, my hyacinth, 

xVt last I've found thee out ! 
0, where hast thou been hid so long? 
What hast thou been about ? 
" I've been," the little hermit said, 
" Within my lowly cell ; 



POEMS FOR CHILD REX. 71 

And joj I've had in quiet there, 
That tongue can never tell. 

" In sweet communion with the power 

To which alone I trust, 
I've worshipped long at nature's shrine, 

Abased below the dust. 
This upper world I find a scene 

Of peril, change and strife ; 
And from seclusion I must draw 

My sweetest draught of life. 

" I could not live, if ever thus, 

Uncovered to the glare 
Of yonder sun, and rudely brushed 

By every vagrant air. 
'Tis best for me, and best for thee, 

That I should pass from sight. 
To dwell a while in loneliness. 

And hidden from the liorht. 



" For I should lose my highest worth 
By being always here ; 
And thou would'st lose the joy thou hast 
To see me re-appear. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREX. 



From calm and humble solitude, 

My first attractions flow ; 
And but for these, I should be poor. 

Without a charm to show. 

I've now come back to stand awhile 

In beauty to thine eye ; 
And when my flowers have gladdened 
thee. 

They '11 be content to die. 
And while thy hyacinth shall pour 

Her sweets from every bell, 
Remember, she her fragrance gained 

Within the lonely cell! " 



THE WINTER KING.* 

! what will become of thee, poor little 

bird ? 
The muttering storm in the distance is 

heard ; 
The cold winds are waking, the clouds 

growing black ! 



POEMS FOR C H I L D R E X . 73 

They '11 soon scatter snow-flakes all over 

thy back ! 
From what sunny clime hast thou wandered 

away ? 
And what art thou doing, this cold winter 

day? 



" I'm pecking the gum from the old peach- 
' tree : 

i The storm does'nt trouble me ! ^Pee-dee- 
i dee.'' 



But what makes thee seem so unconscious of 

care ? 
The brown earth is frozen — the branches 

are bare ! 
And how can'st thou seem so light-hearted 

and free, 
Like Liberty's form with the spirit of glee. 
When no place is near for thine evening 

rest — 
N'o leaf for thy screen — for thy bosom no 

nest ? 



74 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



" Because tlie same hand is a shelter for me, ! 
That took off the summer leaves ! — Pee-dee- 
dee." I 

But man feels a burden of want, and of 

grief, 
While plucking the cluster and binding the 

sheaf ! ■ 

We take from the ocean, the earth, and the i 

air ; I 

And all their rich gifts do not silence our I 

care. 
In summer we faint ; in the winter we're 

chilled, j 

With ever a void that is yet to be filled. 

" A very small portion sufficient will be, 

If sweetened with gratitude ! — Pee-dee-dee." ! 

I thank thee, bright monitor ! What thou 

hast taught 
Will oft be the theme of the happiest 

thought. 
We look at the clouds, while the bird has 

an eye 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 75 



To Him who reigns over them, changeless 

and high ! 
And now, little hero, just tell me thy name, 
That I may be sure whence my oracle came. 

" Because, in all weather, I'm happy and 

free. 
They call me the ' winter king : ' — Pee-dee- 

dee." 

But soon there '11 be ice weighing down the 

light bough 
Whereon thou art flitting so merrily now ! 
And though there's a vesture, well-fitted and 

warm. 
Protecting the rest of thy delicate form. 
What then wilt thou do with thy little bare 

feet. 
To save them from pain, 'mid the frost and 

the sleet ? 

" I can draw them right up in my feathers, 

you see ! 
To warm them, and fly away! — -Pee-dee- 

dee." 



76 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



THE BOY AND THE FLO\YERS. 

Radiant with his spirit light, 

Was the happy little child. 
Sporting round a fountain bright, 

Playing through the flowerets wild. 
"Where they grew he lightly stepped, 

Cautious not a leaf to crush ; 
Then about the fount he leaped, 

Shouting at its merry gush. 

While the sparkling waters welled, 

Laughing as they bubbled up, 
In his lily hand he held, 

Closely clasped, a silver cup. 
Now he put it forth to fill ; 

Then he bore it to the flowers. 
Through his fingers there to spill 

What it held, in mimic showers. 

" Open, pretty buds," said he, 
" Open to the air and sun ; 
So to-morrow I may see 

What my rain to-day has done. 
Yes, you will, you will, I know, 
For the drink I give you now. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



77 



Burst your little cups, and blow, 
When I'm gone, and can't tell how. 

" Oh ! I wish I could but see 

How God's finger touches you, 
When your sides unclasp, and free. 

Let the spice and petals through. 
I would watch you all the night ; 

Nor in darkness be afraid, 
Only once to see aright 

How a beauteous fiower is made. 

" Now remember, I shall come 
In the morning, from my bed. 
Here to find among you, some 

With your brightest colors spread ! " 
To his buds he hastened out 

At the dewy morning hour, 
Crying with a joyous shout, 
" God has made of each a flower! " 



Precious must the ready faith 

Of the little children be. 
In the sight of Him who saith, 
" Suffer them to come to me." 



78 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



Answered by the smile of Heaven 
Is the infant's oJSfering found, 

Though " a cup of water given," 
Even to the thirsty ground I 



ROBIN, SING TO ME. 

Robin, robin, sing to me. 
And I '11 gladly suffer thee 
Thus to breakfast in the tree, 

On the ruddy cherry. 
Soon as thou hast swallowed it, 
How I love to see thee flit 
To another twig, and sit. 

Singing there, so merry. 

It was kind in thee to fly 
Near my window ; and to try 
There to raise thy notes so high 

As to break my slumbers. 
Robin, half the cheering power 
Of this bright and lovely hour. 
While I pluck the dewy flower. 

Comes from thy sweet numbers ! 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 79 



And thou wast an honest bird, 
Thus to let thy voice be heard, 
Asking — in the plainest word 

Thou could'st utter — whether 
Those who owned it, would allow 
Thee to take upon the bough 
Thy repast, and sit, as now. 

Smoothing down thy feather. 

Who, that hears the mellow note 
On the air of morning float 
From the robin's little throat. 

Could desire to still her ? 
Who her beauty can behold. 
And consent to have it told. 
That he had a heart so cold, 

As to try to kill her? 



THE CHILDREN AT THE OAK. 

Beneath an old oak's leafy shade. 

In careless infant glee. 
Three little children sat, and played, 

Or chased about the tree. 




So light and airily they went, 

With each a beaming face, 
The grass beneath their footsteps bent, 

Sprang back, and took its place. 



The flowers they'd plucked and carried 
there. 

Lay scattered all around, 
And spread their odors on the air, 

"While they adorned the ground. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



81 



A bright embroidery they made, 

To decorate the scene, 
In sweet confusion, lightly laid 

Upon the silken green. 

As round the tree they ran and leapt, 

Those gladsome little boys 
Upon the last year's acorns stepped, 

And gathered them for toys. 

When down they sat, to count them o'er, 
Beneath those branches high, 

That once the pretty play-things bore, 
An aged man drew nigh. 

His hair was white — his eye was dim ; 

So slow his way he made, 
The children, rising, ran to him. 

And led him to the shade. 



When, braced against the firm old oak, 

And leaning on his staff. 
He listened, while the prattlers spoke, 

And joined their childish laugh, 
p 



82 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



Then every acorn offered up, 
With smooth and pointed cone 

Set close within its bossy cup, 
Was to the patriarch shown. 

Said he, " My little children dear, 

Take each an acorn sound, 
And, though an old man's word you hear. 

Go hide it in the ground. 

" For every one a future oak 
Contains within its shell ; 
And when the germ its sheath has broke, 
'Twill peer from out the cell. 

" Then three young trees, all firm and 
bright, — 
And this — in swift decay. 
Will stand in their beholder's sight, 
As we, in ours, to-day. 



My father, when a playful child 
But in his seventh year. 

An acorn from the forest wild 
Brought out, and planted here. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 8B 



" Thence rose the good old tree, which thus 
Throws wide its leafy veil, 
And stands, while overshadowing us, 
A witness to my tale. 

" And even to his latest days, 
By planting seed or shoot. 
He loved the infant tree to raise 
For future shade or fruit. 

" For while he knew he might not see 
The blossom deck the limb, 
He reared them as a good to be 
For others after him. 

" When, feeling life's swift years were spent, 
He saw its end appear. 
He asked to have his monument 
The oak he planted here. 

" And now, beneath this grassy mound 
In nature's beauty dressed. 
Which you have scattered flowers around, 
His hallowed ashes rest 



84 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



" And I, in every blooming year 
From infancy till now, 
Have listened to the warblers here, 
That sang from bough to bough. 

" Full fourscore summers have I come 
To hear their carol gay ; 
And yet they seem but as the sum 
Of hours that make a day ! 

" While hence I've viewed the plant and 
flower 
That decked the hill and mead. 
They seemed epistles, traced by Power 
Above, for man to read. 

" When o'er my head, soft winds passed by, 
And threw the leaves apart, 
Methought sweet whispers from the sky. 
Were breathed upon my heart. 

" They seemed my father's angel voice, 
In tones of peace and love. 
That bade me make my early choice 
A treasure pure above. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 85 



" For he, when, but a child, he laid 
In earth the acorn low, 
Resigned his heart to Him who made 
The oak spring up, and grow. 

." That God, who called my father hence 
From sorrow, pain, and dust. 
Was then his orphan's sure defence, — 
Is now my joy and trust. 

" 'Tis he who makes the old man smile, 
Though trembling, hoar, and dim ; 
For now 'tis but a little while 
Ere I shall be with Him ! " 

The speaker ceased ; when, quick and 
mute, 

Each listener stepped apart ; 
In earth to lay the oaken fruit, 

As faith lay in his heart 



86 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



THE SPARROW. 

A quiet, harmless little bird, 

About your door I come ; 
And when my low " chick-chick," is heard, 

I'm asking for a crumb. 
O'er mint and clover-tops I flit, 

And through the fragrant yarrow ; 
Then, waiting near your door I sit, 

A patient little sparrow. 



To yon old churchyard late I flew. 

And from its gate looked round. 
Where marble stood, and willows grew. 

Within the silent ground. 
The branches drooped, the graven stone 

Gazed on the grassy barrow ; 
But all was hush, and there was none 

Awake to hear the sparrow. 



In simple suit of russet brown, 

I thus am daily dressed. 
While other birds on me look down ; 

Yet I've a peaceful breast. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 87 



No envy for the loud and gay 
Shall e'er my bosom harrow ; 

More lowly, I'm more blest than they, 
A fearless, trustful sparrow ! 

For clearer note, and richer plume, 

And wider wings to fly, 
May others higher rank assume 

On nature's scale, than I. 
Yet crimson, azure, green and gold 

Attract the archer'' s arrow : 
Bright captives, too, the cage may hold, 

That never held a sparrow ! 

Now, lady, lest around your door 

The bird that comes to-day 
A crumb to ask, may come no more, 

At heart my message lay. 
For I'm our Maker's carrier-bird, 

Though seems my sphere so narrow ; 
And 'tis a kindly Spirit-word 

He sendeth by " the sparrow ! " 



88 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



THE GOOD DOLL. 

Come, sister dear, 

I'll read you here 
The story of a DoUie, 

Who never strayed 

Nor disobeyed 
Good rules, by guilt or folly. 

She never cried, 

When put aside, 
In bed or in the cradle ; 

When taken up, 

She broke no cup, 
Nor dropped a spoon or ladle. 

She never told 

A fib, nor rolled 
Her pretty lip in anger ; 

Nor, if displeased. 

Felt cross, and teased, 
Or filled the house with clangor. 

She never soiled 
Her dress, or spoiled 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



89 



Her shoes, their worth abusing ; 

Nor did she tear 

Her book, or wear 
Through leaves she was perusing. 

She did not pass 

Before the glass 
Too often, or too vainly ; 

As if her worth 

Should be set forth 
In outward beauty mainly. 

The whole, in short, 

Of Collie's fort, 
Was trust in those to train her 

Who better knew 

Than she could do, 
Wherein she'd be a gainer. 



A brother young 

Was found among 
Miss Dollie's near relations, 

Who could, like her, 

Some good infer 
From slio'htcst intimations. 



90 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



But both were small ; 

So this is all 
Their story gives at present : 

It lets us see, 

How each could be 
In aspect always pleasant. 



THE robin's song. 

Hark ! it is the robin's song 

Coming through the flowery trees ! 

Sweetly does it float along 
Hither, on the balmy breeze. 

0, that I could understand 

Once, the meaning of the words 

Warbled forth so quick, to go 
To the music of the birds ! 

If I had him in my hand. 

Holding down his glossy wings. 

Could I better understand 
What it is the robin sings ? 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 91 



Were his tender downy breast 
Pressing, warm, upon my palm, 

Could I make it feel at rest ? 
Would he then be tame and calm ? 

No, — upon his native bough 
He is happy, light and free : 

There, to Heaven he carols now 
Praises for his liberty ! 

Captive, he would only make 
Signs of anguish — sounds of grief, 

Till his little heart would break, 
Mourning — panting — for relief. 

He who formed the feathered lyre. 
Hath the light, unfettered wings 

Made to fan the latent fire 
Kindled in the hidden strings. 

Whilst he holds it high in air, 
To his touch it quick replies ; 

But if mortal fingers bear 
On its chords, the music dies ! 



92 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



THE CHILD AND THE FIRE-PLY 

Come here, pretty fly, 
For the grass is so damp 

And the wind is so high. 
They will put out your lamp. 

Come, don't be so coy, 
Flashing by me with fear ; 

There's naught to destroy, 
Or to injure you here. 

Like a bright little spark 

As you're flying about, 
Here and there, in the dark, 

0, you will get put out ! 

Then come, pretty fly. 
Here's a shelter for you : 

Not a blast shall come nigh. 
Nor a drop of the dew. 

Secure shall you stand, 

Little jewel, and shed 
Your light in my hand. 

When your winglets are spread ; 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



93 



Or rest here by me, 
In the pure crystal cup ; 

If you '11 just let me see 
How your winglets go up. 

" Many thanks for your care," 
Said the wise little fly ; 

" But without dew and air, 
I should soon faint and die. 

" More charms do I find 

In a fresh blade of grass. 
Than appears, to my mind. 
In a whole house of glass I 

" My lamp is not made 

Of the poor, wasting oil, 
With burning to fade. 
Or for dampness to spoil. 



By a hand that's unseen 

It is fashioned and trimmed ; 

And this is the screen 

That shall keep it undimmed. 



94 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



" Secure in that hand, 
I can live at my ease, 
And glow while I'm fanned 
By the blast and the breeze. 

" I love to be free, 

And to feel the whole world 
Is open to me 

When my wings are unfurled. 

" From a sweet verdant sod 
Am I raised up at night. 
When the brightness of God 
Lends the Fire-fly her light ! " 



THE bird's home. 

0, where is thy home, sweet bird 
With the song, and bright glossy plume? 
" I '11 tell thee where I rest, 

If thou wilt not rob my nest ; 
I built among the sweet apple-bloom ! " 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



95 



But, what's in thy nest, bright bird ? 
What's there, in the snug downy cell ? 
" If thou wilt not rob the tree ; 

Nor go too near, to see 
My quiet little home, I will tell." 

0, I will not thy trust betray ! 
The secret I will closely keep. 
" I've three tender little things 

That have never used their wings ! 
I left them there, at home, fast asleep." 

Then, why art thou here, my bird. 
Away from thy young, helpless brood ? 
" To pay thee with a song 

Just to let me pass along. 
Nor harm me, as I look for their food.' 



THE BROKEN PIPE. 

Come here, little Willie ; 

Why, what is the trouble ? 
I've broke my new pipe, ma' — 

I can't make a bubble ! " 



96 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



Well, don't weep for that, child ; 

Come brighten your face, 
And tell how this grievous 

Disaster took place. 

" Why, Puss came along, 

And said I, ' Now she'll think 
This white frothy water 
Is milk she may drink.' 

" So, I set it before her. 

And plunged her mouth in, 
When up came her paws. 
And clung fast to ray chin. 

" Then I gave her a blow 
With my pipe ; and it flew 
At once into pieces ! — 
0, what shall I do? 

" I can't make a bubble ! 
I wish naughty Kit 
Had been a mile off : 

See, there's blood on me yet ! " 



POEMS FOE CHILDREN. 97 



I'm sorry, my boy ; though 

Your loss is but just. 
You first deceived Pussy, 

And trifled with trust. 

And failing in this, 

You compelled her ; and thence 
The wound on your face 

From poor Kit's self- defence. 

Then when you grew cruel, 
And beat her, you know 

Your pipe and yourself 

Fared the worst for the blow. 



Let this lesson teach you, 
Hence never to stoop. 

To make man or brute, 

That may trust you, a dupe ; 

That when you have power, 
It should not be abused, 

Oppressing the weaker, 
Nor strength be misused. 

G 



98 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 

For often imkindness 
Returns whence it came ; 

Deceit, too, will ever 
Be followed by shame. 

Remember this, William, 
And here end your sorrow : 

1 11 buy you a pipe. 

To make bubbles, to-morrow. 



THE PEACH BLOSSOMS. 

Come here ! come here, cousin Mary, and see 
What fair, ripe peaches there are on the 

tree — 
On the very same bough that was given to 

me 
By father, one day last spring. 
When it looked so beautiful, all in the blow. 
And I wanted to pluck it, he told me, you 

know, 
I might, but that waiting a few months 

would show 
The fruit, that patience might bring. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



99 



And as I perceived, by the sound of his 

voice, 
And the look of his eye, it was clearly his 

choice 
That it should not be touched, I have now 

to rejoice 
That I told him we'd let it remain ; 
For, had it been gathered when full in the 

flower, 
Its blossoms had withered, perhaps, in an 

hour. 
And nothing on earth could have given the 

power 
That would make them flourish again. 



But now, of a fruit so delicious and sweet 

I've enough for myself and my playmates a 
treat ; 

And they tell me, besides, that the kernels 
secrete 
What, if planted, will make other trees : 

For the shell will come open to let down the 
root ; 

A sprout will spring up, whence the branch- 
es will shoot ; 



100 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 

There 11 be buds, leaves and blossoms ; and 
then comes the fruit — 
Such beautiful peaches ^s these ! 



THE bird's maternal CARE. 

The following is but versified statement of a touching, literal 
fact that occurred not long since a few rods from my own door. 

A shadowy tree, that grew beside 

Its city owner's door, 
Its branches threw so high and wide. 
That many a bird could sing, and hide 

Amono^ the leaves it bore. 



A robin came, and built her nest 

In that green rustling tree. 
At evening, there she sank to rest 
And furled her weary wings, as blest 

As little bird could be. 

Upon her side her drowsy head. 

Beneath her folded wing. 
She pillowed, while the night-hours fled : 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



101 



When morning flushed the east with red, 
She'd wake, and mount, and sing. 

Five pretty eggs of azure hue, 

In that soft nest she laid. 
So clear and vivid was their blue, 
Like polished balls they shone to view. 

Of purest sapphire made. 

And many a day she brooded o'er 
Those treasures, till they grew, 
In what the shells contained before, 
To something different — something more 
Young birds came peeping through ! 

Five little baby birds were there, 

In that fond robin's nest, 
All callow ; and their mother's care 
Was now to iind their daily fare, 

And shield them with her breast. 



Her tiny game, or berries ripe 

From some far distant stem 
She'd bring them ; then her beak she'd wipe, 
And sit upon a twig, and pipe 

A mother's tune to them. 



102 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



At length, the owner of the tree 

One dismal, stormy day, 
His window from the shade to free, 
The better in his room to see, 

Some branches lopped away. 

He dropped the very bough that hung 

A curtain o'er the nest. 
The sun burnt through the clouds, and flung 
His fire the helpless brood among, 

Till they were sore oppressed. 



Their tender mother then was seen 

To stand on weary feet, 
Where now they missed the leafy green, 
With one wing raised her babes to screen 

From sultry noontide heat. 



And, patient there, she day by day. 

Upon her nest's round edge, 
Stood up to keep the sun away. 
While, shaded thus, her nestlings lay 
Till time their forms could fledge. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 103 



Then, when the master of the tree 

Beheld what love and care 
Within a mother bird could be, 
He wished in vain that he could see 

The bough still living there. 

Thus, thoughtless we may often pain 

Or grieve a feeling heart, 
Wherein the anguish must remain. 
While we may wish, but wish in vain, 

To lay or lull the smart. 

A good destroyed \s a fearful thing. 

And so 's a good undone ! 
We, serving self, on self may bring 
A heavier ill — a keener sting 

Than what we sought to shun. 

'Tis little acts of good or ill. 

That make our vast account. 
No one, though great, does all God's will. 
Small drops the caves of ocean fill ; 

And sands compose the mount. 



104 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



THE WHEAT FIELD. 

Field of wheat, so full and fair. 
Shining, with thy sunny hair 
Lightly waving either way, 
Graceful as the breezes play — 
Looking like a summer sea, — 
How I love to gaze at thee ! 
Pleasant art thou to the sight ; 
And to thought, a rich delight. 
Then, thy voice is music sweet, 
Softly-sighing Field of Wheat. 

Pointing to the genial sky, 
Rising straight, and aiming high. 
Every stalk is seen to shoot 
As an arrow, from the root. 
Like a well-trained company, 
All, in uniform, agree 
From the footing to the ear ; 
All in order strict appear. 
Marshaled by a skilful hand, 
All together bow, or stand — 
Still, within the proper bound ; 
None o'er steps the given ground - 
With its tribute held to pay 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 105 



At His nod whom they obey. 
Each the gems that stud its crown 
Will ere long for man lay down : 
Thou with promise art replete 
Of the precious sheaves of wheat. 

How thy strength in weakness lies ! 

Not a robber-bird that flies 

Finds support whereby to put 

On a stalk her lawless foot ; 

Not a predatory beak 

Plunges down, thy stores to seek, 

Where the guard of silver spears 

Keeps the fruit, and, decks the ears. 

No vain insect, that could do 

Harm to thee, dares venture through 

Such an armory, or eat 

Off the sheath, to take the wheat. 

What a study do we find 
Opened here for eye and mind ! 
In it, who can offer less 
Than to wonder, and confess. 
That on this high-favored ground, 
Faith is blest, and Hope is crowned ? 



106 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



Charity her arms may spread 
Wide from it, with gifts of bread. 
Wisdom, Power, and Goodness meet 
In the bounteous Field of Wheat ! 



THE WHITE ANEMONE. 

Thy charm, pale, modest, timid one, 
Is this — that thou dost ever shun 
The public walk, and to the sun 

Dost show an open heart ; 
Which does not fear the brightest ray 
That 's darted from the eye of day, 
Will aught of secret stain betray, 

Or find a double part. 

And thou hast never been beguiled 

To quit the simple, quiet wild 

Where Nature placed her modest child 

To worship her alone. 
Thou dost not ask the brow of toil 
To shed its costly dew, to spoil 
The bed of free, unfurrowed soil 

Which thou hast made thine own. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 107 ! 



And now, if I were hence to take 
Thee, root and stem, it would but make 
Thee homesick — and the spell would 
break. 

That 's round the desert gem. 
So, I will set me down, and look 
On thy fair leaves, my little book. 
To read the name of Him who took 

Such care in forming them. 



PIC-NIC HYMN. 

When Jesus the multitude fed, 

And blest the repast brought before them. 
The earth was the table he spread, — 

The skies, the pavilion hung o'er tliem. 
And He, the great Teacher, is ours ! 

From Art and the world thus retiring. 
We find, through grass, wild-wood and 
flowers, 

His wisdom and goodness transpiring. 

When nature we read in the leaves 

And bloom of the trees, softly spreading. 



108 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



Our spirit fresh vigor receives, 
As if walks of Paradise treading. 

The insect that chirps at our feet, — 
The breeze in the branches surrounding, - 

The birds, with their songs wildly sweet, 
Are notes to the Deity sounding. 

And we to Him, present alone, 

Save Nature's sweet angel, confiding 
Our soul's deepest feelings, must own 

No good like his favor abiding ! 
The streamlet — the floweret — the tree — ■ 

The mountain majestic and hoary ; — 
Yea, all that we hear, or we see. 

Attests to his power and his glory. 

His Book spreads from earth to the skies ! 

The more we its leaves are unfolding, 
The more it enlightens our eyes 

His higher perfections beholding. 
Embellished with stars and the sun, 

It shines ; and for clear illustration. 
To us the Omnipotent One 

Hath sent his Divine Revelation. 



P E 51 S FOR CHILDREN. 



109 



THE FLY UNDER THE LAMP-SHADE. 

Ah ! thou lost, unwary thing, 
Fluttering with a tortured wing — 
Crying, with thy little feet 
Scorched amid surrounding heat ! 
Poor, unhappy, suffering fly, 
What a painful death to die ! 

Since so rashly thou hast strayed 
'Twixt the funnel and the shade, 
In the fiery prison lost, 
Now thy life must pay the cost 
Of thy venturing near the glare 
Dazzling to allure thee there ! 

Oh ! it fills my heart with pain 
Thus to see thee strive in vain 
For escape ; for I, alas ! 
Am too small to lift the glass. 
Mother says I must not take 
Things my little hands might break. 



Here she comes! but 'tis too late! 
Thou, poor thing, hast met thy fate. 



110 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



Motion ceases-^ life has fled — 
Dropping on the table, dead, 
Now I see thee, thoughtless fly, 
'Twas a foolish death to die ! 

' Yes, my child, in careless play, 
Thus his life is thrown away. 
For a thing that pleased the eye 
He rushed onward but to die ! 
But remember — there was none 
Warning him the blaze to shun. 

' If thou think'st the untaught flies, 
For their errors, so unwise. 
Let this insect's fall be hence 
From temptation thy defence. 
On thy heart a picture stamp 
Of the fly about the lamp ! " 



THE BIBLE IN THE FIELDS. 

I love to take this holy book. 
In summer's balmy hours, 



POEMS J^OR CHILDREN. Ill 



To study it beside the brook, 
Or by the trees and flowers. 

For here I read about the God 
Who made this world so fair, 

The skies — the stream — the grassy sod 
And bloom, that scents the air. 

The birds flit round, and sweetly sing 
Of Him, who feeds them all, — 

Who lifts the towering eagle's wing, 
And marks the sparrow's fall. 

The violet, from its soft green bed 

To speak his goodness too, 
Presents its tender, purple head 

Baptized with silvery dew. 

And here the busy bee I view, 

As she comes swiftly by. 
And seems to ask, if she should do 

More work, or good than I. 

Her waxen house betimes to build 
I see her wisely bent ; 



112 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



And then, with bread and honey filled 
To have it, still intent. 

The bees I find their sweets supplied 

In wild Judea's land. 
To feed the Baptist, when he cried, 
" Heaven's kingdom is at hand." 

And when our Savior, from the grave, 
Had asked his friends for meat. 

He ate the honey-comb they gave ; 
And showed his hands and feet. 

This volume of his will revealed 

I here can read within, 
Behold the lilies of the field — 

They neither toil nor spin ! " 

And yet the king " was not arrayed 

In glory, like to them ; " 
Their Maker's power is so displayed 

In flower and leaf and stem. 

And he sat on the mountain's side. 
Who spake these blessed words, 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



113 



Before him flowery fields spread wide - 
Around were trees and birds. 

The fleecy flocks that roam so free 

On hill and valley deep, 
I love to watch : and here I see 

'Tis written, " Feed my sheep." 

For thus I seem to keep in view. 

And feel how near I am 
To that dear Friend of Children who 

Has named himself " The Lamb.'' 



WRITING IN Helen's album, on 

HER BIRTH-DAY. 

Now, Helen dear, I hear thee say, 
That thou art six years old to-day ! 
So I will set my record here 
Of thy beginning seventh year, 
That thou in after days may'st find 
The trace which this has left behind. 

H 



114 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



This morning we together strayed 
'Mid fern, and brake, and forest-shade ; 
And, with thy little hand in mine, 
We passed the rustling oak and pine, 
Where last year's acorn-cup and cone 
Among its withered leaves were strown. 

The nimble squirrel, climbing high, 
Looked down on us with curious eye ; 
While birds amid the branches sung 
Till through the woods their music rung; 
And in the boughs the spicy breeze 
Made leafy air-harps of the trees. 

Round, scarlet berries, ripe and sweet. 
Peeped out like gems beside our feet ; 
The modest harebell bowed beneath 
The sweetbrier tall, her balm to breathe; 
And many a little floweret wild 
Grew low, but looked to heaven and 
smiled. 



We ventured down the mossy steep, 
That edged the waters clear and deep, 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



115 



Where blooming laurels grew beside 
The Merrimack's broad silver tide ; 
And all was beauteous, fresh, and fair, 
In nature's glory shining there. 

And may thy future days be bright — 
Thy heart be ever pure and light, 
As when, a little gladsome child, 
I led thee through the flowery wild : 
And by thy prattling tongue was told, 
That thou to-day wast six years old ! 

In other days, when thou may'st see 
My face no more, remember me — 
Remember, that I asked to-day 
Heaven's smile upon thy future way - 
That 'twas thy parent's early friend. 
And thine, who this memento penned. 



LADY MARY. 

Lady Mary was able 
To keep a good table ; 



116 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



And what was still better, none found her 
Without a good heart 
The good things to impart, 

Which Providence showered around her. 

She was prudent, 'tis true ; 

But was generous, too. 
When charity called for her money ; 

And she ever kept by. 

Her own board to supply, 
Fresh biscuits, sweet butter and honey ; 

And twenty things more 
That we '11 not number o'er, 

But such as gave comfort to many 
So old, lone and poor, 
That at home she felt sure. 

They had very little, if any. 

Then, oft as there came 

To her house some old dame, 

So feeble she scarce could walk steady. 
Lady Mary would say, 
" Take your cloak off and stay, 

And early my tea shall be ready." 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 117 



So pleasant her smile 

And her manners the while — 

So kind was the welcome she gave her, 
Her modest old guest 
Would be put quite at rest. 

And stay as if granting a favor. 

She 'd laugh, then, and chat, 

About this thing and that, 
And seek to amuse her meek hearer, 

As social and free, 

While she poured out the tea. 
As if some great duchess were near her. 

When the moment was come 

For her guest to go home. 
That she might neither want, beg, nor borrow. 

She 'd press her to take 

A nice tart and a cake. 
Or something else, good for the morrow. 

She sometimes would go 
Soothing words to bestow. 
With gifts and kind looks, where were lying 



118 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 

The sick, pale, and faint ; 
And she'd kneel, like a saint, 
In prayer by the bed of the dying. 

Her wish was, to see 

All as happy as she : 
And she knew her kind deeds so to vary. 

That the sad, rich and poor, 

Said, in heaven, they were sure. 
Was a place for the good lady Mary. 



THE TRAMMELED PLY. 

Ah, thou unfortunate ! 

Poor silly fly. 
Caught in the spider's web — 

Hung there to die ! 
What could have tempted thee ? 

What led thee there. 
For the foe thus to throw 

Round thee the snare ? 

Struggling and crying so 
Ne'er can unweave 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



119 



From thee the silken threads 

Laid to deceive. 
Sorrow for wandering 

Comes now in vain ; 
And with one thus undone, 

Grief adds to pain. 



Yet I will rescue thee, 

Unwary thing ! 
Thou may'st again be off 

High on the wing ; 
If thou wilt promise me, 

Hence to be found 
Never more, as before 

On evil ground. 



Trust not the flatterer 

Skilled to ensnare : 
He is a wily one ; 

Think, and beware ! 
Down to his dusky ways 

No more descend. 
Little fly, thou and I 

Want each a friend. 



120 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



Man hath an enemy : 

His snare is laid 
Softly and silently, 

Deep in the shade. 
Light, by the tempter shunned. 

Only can show 
Where, secure, free, and pure, 

Our feet may go ! 



THE WHITE MOTH. 

Beware, pretty Moth, so unsullied and white, 

Beware of the lamp's dazzling rays ! 
It is not a drop of the sun, but a light 
That shines to allure little rovers by night ; 
Away I there is death in the blaze. 

0, why didst thou come from thy covert of 
green. 
The vine, round my window so bright ; 
And pop in to know what was here to be 

seen. 
Forsaking thy shield, and escaping thy 
screen, 
And hazarding life by the flight ? 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 121 



The down on thy limbs and thy bosom so pure 

That flame would most fatally singe : 
And nothing thy beautiful wings can insure 
From harm and from pain beyond mending 
or cure, 
If caught by their delicate fringe. 

Return, giddy wanderer, safe to the vine ; 

And breathe in the fresh evening air ; 
Go, look at the stars, as they twinkle and 

shine ; 
And cling to a leaf, or the tendrils that 
twine. 
My soft little eavesdropper, there ! 

And then, by a song I will sing, thou shalt 
know. 
Why thus I have lifted my arm 
To scare thee away from thy luminous foe. 
That threw out its beams, as a snare, and a 
show 
To tempt the unwary to harm. 

For, I through the day, have been guarded 
by One, 



122 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



Who, greater and wiser than I, 
Has pitied my frailty ; and forced me to 

shun 
Illusive temptations, where I might have run 

The peril of sporting to die. 

'Twas kindness from Him, to whose care I 
commend 
Myself through the darkness of night, 
That taught me so quick to come in, as a 

friend, 
Between thee and evil, thy life to defend ; 
Pretty Moth, so unsullied and white. 



LITTLE ELLEN, AND HER BROKEN 
BASKET. 

As Ellen — now Ellen's a sweet little girl, 
An infantine, innocent creature ; 

With cheeks like the rose-petal, teeth like 
the pearl, 
And lovely in every feature ; — 




As Ellen one day, all equipped for a walk, 
Went forth with the nurse, from her 
mother ; 
And looked like a bud that was broke from 
its stalk, 
And lodged, in its fall, on another. 



She had not gone far, when she spied on the 
green, 

A bird, that she thought had just lighted ; 
The largest and tamest she ever had seen. 

Which seemed neither jealous nor frighted. 



124 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



And so, from the hand of the nurse getting 

free, 
She bounded off nearer, to watch it. 
" see what a beautiful creature ! " said 

she, 
" I guess little Ellen can catch it." 

Then, running, she stepped on her frock-hem, 
and fell. 
Or, as sometimes we say, made a blunder : 
The bird raised its wings, with a hideous 

yell, 

Which capping the fall, nearly stunned 
her. 

And Ellen, intent upon catching the bird, 
Which she did not yet know by its feather, 

Came down on her neat little basket, and 
heard 
Its sides crushed, like egg-shells, together ! 

The name of the bird may not here be of use. 

Yet some little querist may ask it ; 
I therefore will tell you, — 'twas chasing a 

Goose, 
That spoiled Ellen's beautiful basket I 



POEMS FOE CHILDREN. 125 



TO ADELAIDE, 

WHO GAVE ME THE CAPE-JASMINE. 
[Written in her Album.] 

A Jasmine opening, sweet and fair, 

Was late thy gift to me ; 
And naught have I, that can compare 

With this, to offer thee. 

But from my poet-spirit's bower, 
Whose paths not foot can trace, 

I bring this little dewy flower 
Among thy leaves to place. 

And when these earth-born flowers depart, 

As spring and summer fly, 
A keepsake, hold it in thy heart, 

So it may never die. 

Its petals are perfumed with prayer, 
That God may bless thy ways. 

And give his holy angels care 
O'er all thy mortal days. 

For life with thee is in its spring ; 
Its landscape fresh and bright ; 



126 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



While Hope is on her morning wing, 
Nor thinks of coming night I 

The things of time would fain possess 

Thy soul beyond release ; 
But Wisdom^s ways are pleasantness ; 

And all her paths are peace ! 

If now thy heart in youthful glow 

Devote to God its love, 
Through shade, and storm, and frost below, 

Thy Star will shine above ! 



THE SNOW-FLAKE. 

" Now, if I fall, will it be my lot 
To be cast in some low and lonely spot, 
To melt, and to sink, unseen or forgot? 
And there will my course be ended ? " 
'Twas this a feathery Snow-flake said, 
As down through measureless space it 

strayed ; 
Or, half by dalliance, half afraid, 
It seemed in mid air suspended. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



127 



Oh, no ! " said the Earth, " thou shalt 

not lie 
Neglected and lone, on my lap to die, 
Thou pure and delicate child of the sky ! 

For thou wilt be safe in my keeping. 
But then I must give thee a lovelier form ; 
Thou wilt not be part of the wintery 

storm ; 
But revive, when the sunbeams are yellow 
and warm, 
And the flowers from my bosom are 



peeping 



" And then I will give thee thy choice, to be 
Restored in the lily that decks the lea ; 
In the pure jasmine-bloom, the anemone, 

Or aught of thy spotless whiteness ; 
To melt, and be cast in a glittering bead, 
With the pearls that the night scatters 

over the mead. 
In the cup where the bee and the fire-fly 
feed, 
Regaining thy dazzling brightness. 

" I '11 let thee awake from thy transient 
sleep, 



128 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



When Viola's mild blue eye shall weep, 
In a tremulous tear ; or a diamond, leap 

In a drop from the unlocked fountain ; 
Or, leaving the valley, the meadow and 

heath, 
The streamlet, the flowers, and all beneath, 
Go up, and be wove in a silvery wreath 

Encircling the brow of the mountain. 

" Or, would'st thou return to a home in the 
skies. 
To shine in the Iris, I '11 let thee arise. 
And appear in the many and glorious dyes 

A pencil of sunbeams is blending ! 
But true, fair thing, as my name is Earth, 
I '11 give thee a new and vernal birth, 
When thou shalt recover thy primal worth, 
And never regret descending !" 

" Then I will drop," said the trusting flake ; 
"But bear it in mind, that the choice I 
make 
Is not in the flowers, nor the dew to 
awake ; 
Nor the mist, that shall pass with the 
morning. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



129 



For, things of thyself, they will die with 

thee ; 
But those that are lent from on high, like 

me, 
Must rise, and will live, from thy dust set 

free. 
To the regions above returning. 

" If true to thy word and just thou art,. 
Like the spirit that dwells in the holiest 

heart, 
Unsullied by thee, thou wilt let me depart, 

And return to my native heaven. 
For I would be placed in the beautiful : 

Bow, 
From time to time in thy sight to glow, i 
So thou may'st remember the Flake of | 
Snow I 

By the Promise that God hath given ! " 



THE widow's only SON. 

She wrapped her in her sable cloak, 
And walked beside the sea ; 

I 



130 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



But seldom of her sorrow spoke, 
So full of grief was she. 

'Twas this that made her heart so sad, 

To view the ocean wide : — 
The only son that widow had 

Went out to sea and died. 

And then in that great rolling deep, 

With solemn, tearful eyes. 
His messmates lowered him down, to 
sleep 

Till all the dead shall rise. 

But where, among those waters vast. 
With ceaseless fall and swell, 

Her child to that repose had passed. 
The mother could not tell. 

She therefore questioned wave on wave. 
That heaving, reached the shore. 

If they had rolled across his grave 
Whom she should sec no more. 

xVnd often when she saw a ship 
With home-returning sail. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



131 



^yould ashy paleness seize her lip, 
And speech and vision fail. 

For oh ! she thought about the one 
That spread its canvas white, 

To waft away her only son 
Forever from her sight. 

But still, amid the bitter grief 
That wrung that widow's heart. 

Her bosom felt the sweet relief 
That faith and hope impart. 

She knew her son had ever kept 
The path to Heavenly rest ; 

That when he sunk in death, he slept 
Upon a Savior's breast. 



" My Heavenly Father," she would say, 
" The deep and troubled sea 
But holds from me the precious clay ; 
My child 's at home with thee ! " 



132 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



THE CHILD S HYMN TO SPRING. 

Thou lovely and glorious Spring, 
Descending to us from the sky, 

I praise thee for coming to bring 
Such beautiful things to my eye ! 

For, bearing thine arms full of flowers 
To strew o'er the earth, hast thou come, 

Adorning this low world of ours 

With brightness like that of thy home. 

And thou hast brought back the gay birds, 
Their songs full of gladness to sing — 

To give, in their musical words, 
Their sweet little anthems to Spring ! 

The roots thou hast watered and fed ; 

The leaves thou hast opened anew ; 
The violet lifts its meek head, 

And seems as 'twere praising thee, too. 

The hills thou hast made to rejoice, 
And all their young buds to unfold ; 

The cowslips spring up at thy voice, 
And dot the green meadows with gold. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 133 



The brooks o'er the pebbles that run 
Are sounding thy praise as they go ; 

The grass points its blades to the sun, 
And thanks thee for making them grow. 

The rush and the delicate reed 
Are waving in honor of thee, — 

The lambkins are learning to feed — 
The honey-cup 's filled for the bee. 

The butterfly 's out on the wing — 
The spices are out on the breeze ; 

And sweet is the breathing of Spring 
That comes thro' the blossoming trees ! 

The forest, the grove and the vine 

In festival vestures are clad, 
To show that a presence like thine 

Is making them grateful and glad. 

The earth and the waters are bright — 
The skies are all beaming and mild ; 

And oh ! with unmingled delight 

Thy charms fill the heart of the child ! 



134 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



Sweet Spring ! 'twas my Maker made thee, 
And sent thee to brighten our days ! 

Thine aim is his glorf, I see : — 
I '11 join thee in giving him praise. 

My heart seems to sing like the birds ; — 
Like blossoms to open with love, 

Which God will, as music and words, 
Receive for my anthem above. 



That cold, faithless moon looking down on 
the wave ! 
How dark grows my heart with her beam- 



ing ! 



And yonder she smiles on the new-covered 

grave, | 

While tears drown my sight in their | 

streaming. | 

For there lies my father, down, down in the I 

deep, I 

O'erwhelmed by the black, heavy billow ! | 



POEMS FOR childrp:n. 135 



And now have they borne off my mother, to 
sleep 
i Where clamp clods of earth are her pillow. 

I 

How oft did she kneel, when that moon I i 
I from above, 

! Hung mild o'er a calm, sparkling ocean ; 
! And lift her sweet voice in thanksgiving and 
love, 
To Him of her evening devotion ! 

And, when into clouds all their brightness 
was cast, 
With looks full of woe and imploring, 
She bowed like a reed, at the rush of the 
blast ; 
And prayed while the tempest was roaring. ; 



Then, pale at the noise of the storm and the \ 
sea, I 

While tears rolled, as crystal-drops shi- \ 
ning. 
She threw her fond arms round my brother 
and me. 
Her trembling to stay by their twining. 



136 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



I But, oh ! when they told her the whole fatal 

I tale, 

■ By silence her anguish was spoken ; 

I She heard the torn bark had gone down, in 

the gale ; 
Then sunk ! for her heart-strings were 

broken. 

And since, when I see the bright moon 
beaming clear. 
With stars gathered thickly around her, 
I think of that night, when no ray would 
appear. 
To light the frail bark that must founder ! 

The sound of the waves, as they die on the 
shore. 
It fills me with sadness and sighing : 
To me they bring back a dear father no 
more — 
They show me a mother, when dying. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



137 



THE DESPOILED HUMMING-BIRD. 

[A Humming-Bird's nest was sent me from a distant State, 
still attached to the twig on which it was built. A lad, prun- 
ing a fruit-tree, lopped a branch without perceiving the nest, 
till he saw the small white eggs rolling out of it into a rivulet, 
beside which the bough fell.] 

Alas ! pretty rover, thy joys are all over ; 
For gone is thy soft downy nest from the 
tree ! 
With fond bosom yearning, thou 'It seek it 
returning, 
But, poor little birdie ! thy nest is with 
me. 

Yet, not of my doing, this deed for thy rue- 
ing, 
Which leaves thee in anguish thy house 
to deplore : 
While blessing the donor, I grieve for the 
owner ; 
And fain to its bough would thy building 
restore. 



I fancy thee coming, with light pinions hum- 
ming, 



1B8 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



Where tiny white gems thy warm cell had 

impearled ; 
To mourn without measure thy rest and thy 

treasure, 
For ah ! they are gone, and that home 

was thy world. 

But hadst thou forsaken the nest that was 
taken ; 
And left it, all empty and lone, on the 
bough, 
With joy at receiving a house of tliy leaving, 
I never had felt for thee sorrow, as now. 

Whilst I can't replace it, perchance thou 
may'st trace it. 
And follow the scent of thy house from 
the tree : 
Then, deem me not cruel, but come, little 
jewel ! 
And find thy lost treasure in quiet with 
me. 

No rudeness has marred it, nor falling has 
jarred it ; 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



139 



The twig of thy choosing is under it still ; 
Its thatching of mosses and inlay of flosses 
Are just as composed by thy labor and 
skill. 

Thou only could'st form it ; return, then, 
and warm it 
Again with thy breast, letting love banish 
fear ; 
So, when thou art coming at eve from thy 
roaming. 
Thou 'It know, my dear birdie, thy home 
still is here. 



The young flowerets blooming, and sweetly 
perfuming 
The pure air, invite thee to sip from their 
store ; 
The honey-cup 's filling ! to come, then, be 
willing ; 
I '11 shield thee from harm ; thou shalt 
sorrow no more ! 



140 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



TEACHINGS OF GOD. 

He reigns on high, a glorious King, 

In ocean, earth, and air ; 
He moves and governs every thing, 

For God is every where. 

The waters at his bidding flow ; 

The mountain and its flower 
Their majesty and beauty show, 

As traces of his power. 

The lilies by the meadow rills 

Are leaning on his hand ; 
And so the cedar of the hills, 

The palm and olive stand. 

He formed the birds, that sport along 
On light and brilliant wing ; 

And tuned them with the voice of song 
And joy, his praise to sing. 

This earth is ours, so rich and fair, 
From him, who made it thus — 

Who sends his angels down with care 
To minister to us. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



141 



The rainbow, with its beauteous dies, 

A pledge to man, is lent 
By him, who spreads the shining skies 

Around him " as a tent." 

The heavens, my child, are full of him ! 

Yon radiant sun above 
Is but an image, cold and dim. 

Of his great power and love. 

He placed that glorious orb on high, 

In splendor there to roll, 
To warm the world, to light the eye ; 

He lights and warms the soul. 

And lest the night with sable shade 
That azure vault should mar, 

He moved his finger there, and made, 
At every touch, a star. 



With these the moon, his beaming gift. 

Here lets her lustre fall, 
Our thoughts to win, our hearts to lift 

To him, who gave them all. 



142 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



And he is ours — that Holy One, 
Our Father, Guide, and Friend ; 

In ways untravelled by the sun, 
In love that ne'er shall end. 

'Tis sweet to worship him below ; 
With his approving eye 
To mark the way our spirits go 
To seek his face on high. 



THE MAN AND THE MOUNTAIN. 

Mountain, with thy firm old foot 

Fast beside the sea. 
What was in thy keeping put, — 

Prisoned under thee ? 

"Hark, and hear the shuddering ground! 
Feel it rock and quake ! 
Struggling fires, beneath me bound. 
Strive their chains to break." 

Mountain, with a cloudy vest 
Girded o'er thy heart, 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



143 



Poos it pierce thine aged breast, 
When its lightnings dart ? 

" Xo : — beneath me far, the crash 
Of the bolt is felt : 
Here the fiery chain and flash 
But adorn my belt." 

Mountain, with a snowy crown, 

Stainless on thy brow, 
Wilt thou never cast it down — 

Never, never bow ? 

" When the mandate I shall hear 
From my Maker's throne, 
I will bow and disappear, 
Hence to be unknown." 

Mountain, holding proud and high 

Thine old hoary head. 
What is written on the sky, 

Thou so long hast read ? 



" Brighter than the stars and sun 
Shining over me. 



144 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



I behold the name of One 
Thou must die to see ! " 

Mountain, bold thine eloquence — 

Glowing is thy speech ; 
Mighty import flashes thence ; 

What is it to teach ? 

" Thoughts of Him, before whose breath 
I shall melt away ; 
While of thee, soul — spirit, death 
Ne'er shall quench a ray ! " 



POOR M A R I A N N A. 

Ah, poor Marianna ! the scene is so bleak. 
As shivering and lonely she goes. 

The wind causes half the big tear on her 
cheek, 
While round her it whistles and blows. 



But why is she out with a prospect so drear. 
Beneath the cold lowering sky ? 

Methinks is the question which many appear 
To ask by a look or a sigh. 



^fcte..! 




Of poor }>larianna but sad is the tale ; 
For she is the fisherman's child 
, Who climbed up the rock when the furious 
I gale 

I Turned all the black waters so wild. 

I 

I While there she stood trembling and palQ 
on the cliff', 
And reached fortli an impotent hand, 
She knew 'twas her father far out in the 
skiff, 
Kard straggling to make for the land. 

K 



146 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



Yet wild was the ocean, and sudden the 
flaw 
That kept the frail boat far from shore ; 
She watched the reefed sail till submerged, 
but she saw 
The boat and her father no more. 

The sight was too much for her tender young 
mind ; 

She shrieked and fell faint on the rock. 
A ruin of reason was all that behind 

Remained, ever after the shock. 



When found, and reviving, all trembling and 
pale. 
The fisherman's poor orphan child 
Seemed still to behold his lone boat in the 
gale, 
'Mid billows all gloomy and wild. 



Her mind is unsettled, and roving her eye, 
And sometimes she '11 harmlessly roam. 

To watch the light figures in clouds on the 
sky, 
Or near the sea-rocks, in the foam. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



147 



She plucks purple berries, or bright scarlet 
haws, 
In clusters that hang on the stem, 
And sits by the sea-side to string them on 
straws, 
Then throws in bright tresses of them. 

And when the sunned waters are sleeping 
and pure, 

She asks little fishes, thus drawn 
So near she can see them, to nibble the lure. 

To show where her father is gone. 

She gathers wild flowers: — when in bou- 
quets they 're tied 
She throws them far off on the wave, 
And bids them go out where her poor father 
died. 
And hang sweet and bright o'er his grave. 



In autumn and spring, in her mantle and 
hood. 

When clouds are portending a storm. 
She gathers light faggots and pieces of wood, 

Herself and her mother to warm. 



148 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



For small is their cabin tliat stands by the 
sea, 
Yet far less conyenient than small, 
The wind and the rain in a storm making I 
free 
To pour through the roof and the wall. 

And oft Marianna must shake with the cold, I 

For she is but scantily dressed ; 
While gentle she is as the lamb in the fold, 

And harmless as dove in its nest. | 

And sometimes she sings such a pitiful strain, 
So sweet, and so melting — the tear . 

Would gush, and your heart feel strange 
pleasure and pain, 
Her music so dirge-like to hear. 

Alas ! it is mournful and solemn, to see 

But ruins of reason remain. 
And know the affections most holy to be 

The cause that disordered her brain. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



149 



THE WHITE COTTAGE. 

Come here, my dear Loui, and laugh at thy 

fear ; 
The bee has not hurt thee ; so brush off the 

tear, 
And silence the sob, while I tell thee a tale 
About the white cottage that stood in the 

vale. 



Around that low dwelling sweet eglantine 
I grew, — 

I Bright golden-rod, cowslip, and violets 
I blue ; 

1 The raspberry-bloom, and a thousand wild 
j flowers 

Were scattered, or clustered, or twined into 
I bowers. 

The rich honeysuckle climbed up to its eaves ; 

And near it the balm spread its high-odored 
leaves ; 

Green trees stood around, the wing'd war- 
blers to house. 

And robins and yellow-birds built in their 
boughs. 



150 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



And there the bird caroled at eve and at 

morn ; 
And brought little haws they had plucked 

from the thorn, 
Or wild seeds and insects they 'd gathered 

for food, 
To drop in the wide-open beaks of their 

brood. 

Behind the neat cot stood a snug little 
hive, 

Which, had you peeped in, would have look- 
ed all alive. 

At twilight, with bees in a swarm on the 
comb. 

Retired for the night, at their cellular home. 



But soon as the day dawned, the bees issued 

out, 
To fly to the new-opened flowers all about, 
Where, making their bread and their honey, 

they thought 
Of winter, when none could be made, or be 

bought. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



151 



Then, back to the hive with their treasures 

they went, 
Where all brought together with love and 

content. 
The fruits of their labor, in one common 

store 
To save for the future ; and hied off for 

more. 



' While thus they were roving on air through 
the day. 
And scattered so widely, still each knew the 
I way 

I That led to their dear distant home, where 
at night. 
They all met together in peace and de- 
light. 



At peace with mankind, and content with 

their lot, 
A fatnily dwelt in that snug little cot, 
While known free from envy, and ever to 

thrive. 
As busy and happy as bees of their hive. 



152 POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 

And forth from the cottage two fair little 

girls 
Would run, while the fresh morning breeze 

tossed their curls, 
With joy in the eye, and a smile on the lip, 
To see the glad bees at the honey-cups sip. 

Said one to the other, " How charming to see 

The flowers yield their honey to breakfast 
the bee, , 

And still in their colors and fragrance re- 
main 

As perfect as ever, and free from a stain." 

" And then," said her sister, the brisk little 

bees 
That range through the bloom of the plants 

and the trees. 
And mind their own business, in constant 

employ. 
Appear every moment of life to enjoy. 

" They like not that others should come, it 

is true, 
To meddle with them, or the course they 

pursue ; 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 153 



And none ever learns they 've a sting, by its 

touch, 
But those who have troubled or vexed them 

too much." 



The children, those sweet little sisters, were 

seen, 
At morn, where the bee fed, at eve, on the 

green 
The fireflies were lighting with gem after 

gem, 
To bloom like twin flowers of the vale on 

their stem. 



PATTY PROUD. 

The figure before you is Miss Patty Proud. 

Her feelings are lowery, her frown like a 
cloud, 

Because proud Miss Patty can hardly en- 
dure 

To come near the lowly abode of the poor. 



154 POEMS FOR CHILDREN 



She fears the plain floor of the humble will 
spoil 

Her silk hose and shoes, and her skirt-bor- 
der soil ; 

And so she goes wincing, and holds up her 
dress 

So high, it were well if her heels would 
show less. 

But, when she walks through the fine streets 

of the town, 
She puts on fine airs, and displays her rich ! 

gown. 
Till some who have passed her, have thought 

of the bird 
Renowned for ga}^ feathers, whose name you 

have heard. 

In her thought she is trifling ; in manner, as 

vain 
As that silly fowl taking pride in his train ; 
And none who have marked her, will need 

to be told 
That she has a heart that 's unfeeling and 

cold. 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 155 



I saw when she met some poor children one 
day, 

Who asked her for alms, she turned frown- 
ing away, 

And told them, " poor people must work to 
be fed. 

And not trouble ladies to help them to 
bread." 

And just as the sad little mendicants said, 
Their mother was dying — their father was 

dead. 
She entered a store with a smooth, smiling 

face, 
I To lay out her purse in gay ribbons and 

lace. 

I saw her curl up her proud lip in disdain. 
Because Ellen Pitiful picked up the cane 
A feeble old blind man let fall in the sand, 
And placed it again in his tremulous hand. 

But little does haughty Miss Patty suppose. 
Of all whom she smiles on, that any one 
knows 



156 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



How sour she can look when she 's out of 

their sight, 
And fret at the servants, if all is not right. 

At home, she's unyielding, and sullen, and 

cross : 
Her friends* when she 's absent esteem it no 

loss ; 
And some where she visits, in secret confess, 
That they love her no more, though they 

dread her much less. 

The truth is — Miss Patty, when young, 

never tried 
To govern her temper, nor conquer her 

pride. 
The passions unchecked in the heart of the 

child. 
Like weeds in a garden neglected, ran wild. 



They grew with her growth ; with her 

strength they grew strong ; 
Her head not then righted, has ever been 

wrong ; 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 157 



Until she would never submit to be told 
Of faults by long habit made stubborn and 
bold. 

And now, among all my young friends, is 

there one — 
A fair little girl is there under the sun, 
Who 'd rise to a woman, and have it allowed, 
That she is a likeness of Miss Patty Proud ? 



THE YOUNG BENEFACTOR. 

Overshadowed by the willow. 
Near a rippling, silver stream, 

Alvah has a grassy pillow : 

Sweet his slumber, bright his dream ! 

Well may he in peace surrender 
To the balmy power of sleep ! 

O'er a heart so warm and tender, 
Angel eyes their vigils keep. 

He beheld a faint wayfarer, 
Old and feeble, poor and lone ; 



158 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 



Who appeared to have no sliarer 
In the woes himself must own. 

Sitting on the bank that edges 
Brightly this meandering brook 

With a fringe of flowers and sedges, 
He 'd a needy, suffering look. 

Alvah viewed him, filled with pity ; 

And resolved to lend him aid ; 
Though from home in yonder city, 

Far for wild-flowers he had strayed. 

Quick he thought, his little treasure, 
Given to him, and laid aside — 

His bright coins to purchase pleasure — 
Now might wisely be applied. 

Home he ran, to seek and take them, 
Out of breath, with moistened brow ; 

Thinking he could never make them 
Surer means of good than now. 



Swift upon his way returning, 
Over fen and field he ran, 



POEMS FOR CHILDREN. 159 



Till, witli feet and forehead burning, 
He rejoined the poor old man. 

Here, his little gift bestowing, 

While a joy is in his breast 
Worthy of an angel's knowing. 

On the turf he sinks to rest. 

Joy, too long a stranger seeming 
In the wanderer's hollow eye. 

Speaks his thanks, through tear-drops 
beaming, 
While his words in utterance die. 

There he sits, beside the sleeper, 
Asking God's peculiar care — 

Blessings, and a Heavenly keeper. 
For a child so good and fair. 

Angel guards may — thus assuming 
Forms of humble souls below — 

Shroud their own, too bright and bloom- 
ing 
To a mortal eye to show. 



160 



POEMS FOE CHILDREN 



Oft does He, " the King of Glory "— 
Once " the Man of Sorrows " — thus, 

In the poor repeat his story, 
And the tale of Lazarus. 

Now, with pleasure pure and holy, 
He regards this peaceful child, 

Pillowed on a bed so lowly — 

Slumbering 'mid the flowerets wild. 



CONGRESS 



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